


An Actor's Life For Me

by falsteloj



Category: Young Dracula
Genre: Acting, M/M, Teen Angst, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/pseuds/falsteloj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin is convinced he'll land the lead role in the school play. He soon learns you should never underestimate a Dracula...</p><p>(I have a ton more YD stuff - you can find story summaries, etc, by clicking <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/27201609">HERE</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Vlad, I have the best news ever!"  
  
"Ingrid's decided to emigrate, and she's taking your brothers with her?"  
  
Robin pulled a face, even as he spat out an affronted, "No!"

Vlad braced himself for the familiar 'Ingrid really fancies me, she just doesn't know how to admit it' speech. It didn't come. Instead Robin shoved a poorly photocopied flyer in front of his face.  
  
"Look at this, Vlad!"  
  
"I'm trying," he snatched it from Robin's hand and scanned it. "Dracula: The Musical. Try-outs on Monday."  
  
"Isn't it awesome?" Robin beamed at him, "I'm going to audition for Dracula. I'm bound to get it."  
  
"Robin," Vlad stressed the word, hoping to make the other boy see sense, "it's a musical."  
  
"And?"  
  
"You can't sing."  
  
"I can sing," Robin said, hurt.  
  
"I've heard you sing."  
  
"You can say what you like, Vlad," Robin scowled at him and took the flyer back. "I am going to be Dracula."

* * *

"Hands up if you want an audition script."

Robin's hand was up in an instant, entire body almost lifting entirely out of his seat in eagerness. Vlad shook his head; he had been trying all day to tell Robin – nicely – that he didn't stand a chance of getting the role and was just going to embarrass himself. Robin, as usual, hadn't listened to a word he'd said.  
  
"Will you be auditioning, Vlad?" Mrs. Davies asked as she handed Robin a script. "You must know the story inside out," Vlad choked in shock but she went on, "being from Transylvania."  
  
"Shame he don't go back there, innit, Miss?"  
  
Mrs. Davies sighed, ignoring Vlad's protest that he hadn't actually wanted the script now lying in front of him, and moved across the room. "I take it you won't be auditioning, Richard."  
  
"No," Richard Price scoffed. "My dad says that sort of thing is for benders."  
  
"And I suppose your dad is the expert on that sort of thing?"  
  
"Yeah," Price agreed, detecting nothing amiss in the statement, "he is."  
  
There were a few sniggers but the bell rang before Price had chance to figure out why. Robin was dragging him by his arm the second he had his bag on his shoulder,  
  
"Come on, Vlad. We've only got two and half days to practice!"

* * *

"Vlad! You 'ave to sing it."

"I'm not the one who wants to audition," Vlad shook his head, slapping at the script in his hand. "I don't have to sing." He had spent years trying to get out of his endless music lessons. Now he was in Stokely he didn't want to have to revisit the experience.  
  
"Please, Vlad, I can't keep time otherwise." Robin looked up at him with the wide-eyed pleading look Vlad had never been able to refuse. "I really really want to get this part. If you help me I'll-," Robin paused, "I'll put in a good word for you with all my fit fans when I'm a famous film star."  
  
Vlad just raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I'll," Robin grimaced, "go on that bike ride with you."  
  
"Really?" Vlad grinned at him; he had never ridden a bike before. He'd been asking Robin to teach him for years. Spending all day outdoors with Robin would more than make up for having to spend the afternoon singing a few stupid songs.  
  
Robin nodded, looking less than enthusiastic. "So, will you help me?"  
  
Vlad smiled back, "I suppose." He could already smell the fresh air.  
  
Robin's mood lifted instantly. Vlad watched in amusement as he bounced on the balls of his feet, fussing with the CD player and assuring him it was his lifelong ambition to be in a musical. Last week it had been to be an eminent forensic scientist - Robin, Vlad felt, enjoyed dissection entirely too much - and the week before that had been a nostalgic return to wanting to be a chess grandmaster. He supposed at least Robin believed in keeping his options open.  
  
The music started up, again, and Vlad concentrated, reminding himself that Master Kowalski wasn't looming over his shoulder, ready to strap him with his ruler the second he slipped up. When it was Robin's turn to sing there was nothing but silence from the other boy and Vlad looked at him, only to see Robin gaping at him.  
  
"That was amazing! Why didn't you say you could sing like that?"  
  
Vlad blushed and shrugged, "I'm not that good. I've never really sung anything in English before."  
  
"You should try out too!" Robin's encouraging smile slipped slightly, "but not for Dracula."  
  
"I won't be trying out for anyone. I don't want everyone looking at me." Even the thought of all those eyes on him, scrutinising him and finding him wanting, made Vlad feel ill. Before Robin could start on him again he waved the script at him, "Anyway, come on, you said you wanted my help."  
  
Robin grinned and launched back into his badly off-key rendition of Les Mis. Vlad just grimaced and thought about happier things, like bike rides and picnics.

* * *

"Do you have any idea how sensitive my hearing is?"

"I-Ingrid," Vlad jumped in shock, he wished she wouldn't just appear like that. Pulling himself together he glared at her, "Get out of my room!"  
  
"My hearing is extremely sensitive," Ingrid said as if he hadn't even opened his mouth, fixing Robin with a particularly vicious glare. Robin just grinned back at her stupidly like, Vlad sniffed, a lovesick fool.  
  
"We're practising for the school play," Robin said, trying to press closer to her.  
  
She pulled a face and moved back, "You two? You must be joking! Look at you."  
  
Vlad looked down at himself; he didn't think he looked that bad. Mrs. Branagh had said he was looking very smart that morning, and his hair was actually doing what he wanted it to for a change. He glanced up – Robin was, well, looking the same way he always did.  
  
Ingrid shook her head and picked up the CD player.  
  
"Don't!"  
  
"Oops, too late," Ingrid smirked as it clattered to the ground below, suffering the same fate as his television, and everything else he owned of any value. After a moment she inclined her head, "Hear that?"  
  
"Hear what? There's nothing there."  
  
"Exactly." Ingrid flashed her game face, "Keep it that way!"

* * *

"Do you think we've practiced enough?" Robin asked anxiously, hoisting his bag up higher. "Not," he shot Vlad a grin, "that there's any way I won't get this part. Who knows more about blood thirsty vampires than I do?"

Vlad shrugged mockingly, who indeed. Robin took it at face value, "It's going to be so awesome. I wonder who'll play Mina Murray?" He stopped suddenly and Vlad turned back in confusion. "Aw, Vlad, what if they get a sixth former? A really fit sixth former?"  
  
Robin started towards the school gates at twice his former speed, "Come on, Vlad, we can't be late."  
  
Bike rides, Vlad thought comfortingly.

* * *

 

"Look at it, it's like losers'r'us in here."  
  
Tommo Watson smirked at Price, "And, here come the freak kings." Leaning over the back of his seat he called, "Oi, Branagh! Nice cape!"  
  
Robin grinned at him, like it was a compliment, and Price shook his head, "Those two are definitely going to be in it."  
  
"But they're the biggest losers in our entire year," Andrew Davis frowned.  
  
"The entire school," Jonno Van Helsing corrected from the row in front of them.  
  
Price lined up his ruler and the half-chewed sweet he had just decided he didn't like, grinning in triumph when it flew across the room and hit Vlad in the back of the head,  
  
"Exactly."

* * *

"Ow!" Vlad's hand shot to his head, distracting him as Mr. Jenkins wandered down the line, noting their names down on his clipboard. By the time he realised what was happening Mrs. Davies was already clapping her hands together and demanding silence,

"I'd like to start by saying how pleased I am to see so many of you here to audition. Over the years we've put on some spectacular performances at Stokely Grammar, but, I know that this year's is going to be extra special. Secondly," she glared at the rows of students for whom no substitute teacher had been available for, "I'm warning you now; it takes a lot of courage to get up here and sing. The least you lot can do is keep quiet." She shot a particularly vicious glare in Price's direction, "If I have to speak to any of you, you'll be serving detention with Mr. Van Helsing."  
  
There were a chorus of groans, but the group of year seven boys who had been busy racing ten pence pieces across the hall, sat up straight.  
  
"Right then, first up; Robin Branagh and Vladimir Count."  
  
"Miss, I think – there's some sort of mistake. I don't want to – I mean, I can't -"  
  
"Vlad!" Robin hissed at him, "You have to; it's a duet, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, but," Vlad swallowed, horribly aware of the way everyone in the room was looking at him, "you never said I'd have to sing it  _here_."  
  
"Come on, Count," Mr. Jenkins called from the front of the stage. "We haven't got all day."  
  
It was like a nightmare, Vlad thought, a really bad nightmare. Robin, grinning all over his face, dragged him by the arm up towards the stage – either oblivious to or uncaring of the tittering behind cupped hands (and the outright sniggering) as he went past. Vlad shut his eyes and tried to think of anything but the fact half his year were sat in front of him, waiting for him to make a complete idiot of himself.  
  
"Robin," Mrs. Davies asked once they were up the stage steps, "are you wearing face paint?"  
  
"Yeah," Robin spat his plastic fangs out into his hand, "I'm in character, Miss."  
  
Mrs. Davies and Mr. Jenkins shared a look, but duly set about telling Mr. Griffiths, the head of the music department, what to play.  
  
Vlad risked opening his eyes to see Robin beaming happily, the high collar of his cape – one of Vlad's – casting ghoulish shadows across his pasty face, and just as quickly shut them again. Robin was going to be devastated when he didn't get the role.  
  
The piano started up and Vlad took a deep breath. It was too late to back out now.

* * *

"Is this in the play?" Price pulled a face, it sounded rubbish.

"No," Andrew whispered back, "It's from Les Mis."  
  
Price raised an eyebrow, "Lay what?" It sounded suspiciously foreign.  
  
"Bloody hell," Tommo interrupted. "Count's actually pretty good."  
  
"He's very good," Trish amended; she took singing lessons so Price supposed she must know something about it.  
  
Stacey nodded seriously, "He should be on X-Factor or something."  
  
It shifted back to Robin's part and Price grimaced at the noise,  
  
"Not Branagh though. There's only one place he should be."  
  
Price, Tommo and Drew all looked at each other and smirked,  
  
"Nuthouse."

* * *

Applause thundered around the hall as the last notes died away, and Vlad blinked in shock. Mrs. Davies was already in front of him,

"Oh, Vlad! Well done! That was beautiful."  
  
Vlad blushed and kept his gaze on the floor.  
  
"Did you have lessons back in Romania?"  
  
He nodded, "For a bit, Miss. My dad thought it was important."  
  
"He's a wise man."  
  
Vlad didn't get chance to disagree. "What about me, Miss?" Robin asked, looking hopeful.  
  
"It was a very good effort, Robin." She turned back to Vlad as Mr. Jenkins read out the names of the next people up, "We'll put the names up on the board at the end of the day." She winked, "Not that there's any doubt, eh?"  
  
Even Robin pushing past him, and churlishly dumping his cape at his feet, could spoil the moment.

He was good at something.

* * *

"Promise me you won't be mad if you don't get a part," Vlad said, earning nothing but a scowl in response. Robin seemed to be holding him personally responsible for scuppering his chances, as if he had even wanted to audition, or could help the fact that Robin's voice was really only suited to screaming along to the rubbish metal bands he insisted on listening to.

When they reached the board Vlad scanned it in trepidation. Robin would be insufferable if he wasn't in it. His heart skipped a beat when he saw his name at the top of the principle players list. He read it twice just to make sure:  
  
Dracula – Vladimir Count (Yr 11)  
  
Aware that his friendship was probably hanging in the balance he read on,  
  
Mina Murray – Ashleigh West (Yr 12)  
  
Lucy Westenra – Kelsey Peterson (Yr 11)  
  
Brides of Dracula – Delila Taylor (Yr 11)  
  
Chantal Foster (Yr 10)  
  
Samia Kaur Singh (Yr 9)  
  
Prof. Van Hels ~~ing~~ tinks – Rhys Evans (Yr 8)  
  
Jonathan Harker – Owain Lucas (Yr 12)  
  
Dr. Jack Seward – Kyle Haskell (Yr 9)  
  
Sir Simon Holmwood – Josh Roberts (Yr 12)  
  
Renfield – Robin Branagh (Yr 11)  
  
The relief was tangible. Vlad smiled at Robin, "See, we're going to be in it together."  
  
"Renfield? Renfield!" Robin spat, "Do I look like Renfield!?"  
  
"No, of course not. But," Vlad said placatingly, "it's not like this Renfield," he gestured at the board, "is actually Renfield. You've read the script; I expect they chose you because you're really funny."  
  
"Funny?" Robin looked murderous. "I don't want to be funny. I always 'ave to be the funny one! Why can't I get to be the best at something for once!?"  
  
Vlad took a step back; if anything, he had expected tears and complaining about how the play would be rubbish and that he'd never really wanted to be in it anyway. Robin's obvious anger was unnerving.  
  
"You're," he searched for something, "really good at art. Everyone says so. And," Vlad smiled at him, "nobody can dissect a rat like you can."  
  
Robin didn't smile back. "You're laughing at me," he jabbed a finger at him; "You planned this. You knew 'ow much this meant to me!"  
  
"Now you're just being stupid. I didn't even want to audition!" Vlad took a breath, trying to calm down, "Look, why don't you come round mine and we can start rehearsing." He held out the cape he had had to lug round with him all day, "I'll let you wear my best cape."  
  
"I don't want to wear your cape!" Robin stormed off a few steps before turning around, "And I don't want to go round yours and rehearse." He got to the end of the corridor before turning and yelling again, "And, don't come round mine either, because I don't want to speak to you!" Robin wrenched the door open and slammed it behind him.  
  
Mrs. Davies stuck her head around the classroom door at all the noise, "What's going on out here, Vlad?"  
  
Vlad shrugged helplessly, "I  _really_  don't know, Miss."

* * *

"Come on, Robin; you did really well to get a part," Mrs. Branagh smiled at him as she put his tea down in front of him.

"It's a rubbish part!" Robin spat. "They just want to laugh at me."  
  
"Can you blame them?" Paul asked, grinning.  
  
Ignoring Robin's scowling Mrs. Branagh went on, "Dwight Frye played Renfield."  
  
"Dwight who?" Ian frowned, swiping at the gravy he'd just spilt down his 'Stokely Sanitation' polo shirt.  
  
Chloe answered, "Robin's got a poster of him above his bed."  
  
"What 'ave you got a picture of a bloke above your bed for!?"  
  
Paul nudged his brother and made a gesture with his hand, leaving no doubt as to his opinion on the subject.  
  
Mrs. Branagh shot them both a warning look as they fell about laughing, and placed a hand on Robin's forearm, "What I mean is, just because you didn't get the main part, it doesn't mean you don't have the talent for it."  
  
Robin smiled. His mam was right - Vlad must have cheated somehow.

* * *

"Why," Ingrid slumped into a chair and swung her booted feet up onto the table with a clump, "are you talking to yourself?"

Vlad smiled at her, too pleased with himself not to, "I'm reading my script. I've got the lead role in the school play!"  
  
"What is it?" Ingrid asked incredulously. "Vladerella, the Sugar Plum Princess?"  
  
"No," Vlad scowled at her. "Dracula."  
  
"No way!" Ingrid snatched the script from him, flicking through it in obvious disbelief. "Somebody looked at you and thought: vampire." She shook her head, "I've heard it all now."  
  
Vlad snatched it back, "I don't know what's so hard to believe. I am the Grand High Vampire. Or have you forgotten?"  
  
"Vladdy!" The Count's voice rang across the hall, making Vlad cringe, "How I've longed to hear you asserting your claim to the crown like that."  
  
"Yeah," Ingrid sneered at him, "because Vlad is such a model vampire. Why, only just now he was saying how happy he is that he gets to play you in a breather musical. With a few changes of course; a pink frilly shirt here, half an act spent snogging Branagh there. No wait," she snapped her fingers, "That is you."  
  
The Count pulled a face, "If you're referring to that incident at the school fair, there was no," he hooked his fingers in the air, "snogging. It was dark and I was trying to find the peasant's pulse point." Before Ingrid had chance to do more than raise an eyebrow, he turned his attention to Vlad, "What's all this about musical breathers?"  
  
He picked up the script with long fingers and flicked through it, throwing it back down in a rage a few moments later. "Will I never be free of this rubbish! One glass of ţuică too many and I'm still paying for it a century later!" He looked at Vlad haughtily, "I do not sing."  
  
"But, dad," Vlad said, trying to be persuasive, "Have you seen how many peop – peasants you slaughter in it? Everyone will definitely fear the Dracula name after seeing this."  
  
Ingrid snorted but the Count tilted his head, considering.  
  
"And," Vlad went on, playing his ace, "I told everyone you were an expert on Transylvanian history; so Mrs. Davies said you could look through the script and take out anything really offensive."  
  
"She did, did she?" The Count asked, looking pleased with himself. "Well, who am I to interfere in a boy's amusements?"  
  
Ingrid smirked as the Count wandered away, seemingly lost in thought. She looked Vlad up and down derisively, "I don't know about anything else, but it'll definitely be amusing." She grinned, "Don't forget to put my name down for a ticket."

* * *

"Robin?"

Robin ignored him, turning the volume up on his Ipod until Vlad was sure the other boy was going to end up with a perforated ear drum. He kept his gaze on his sketchpad, the pencil in his other hand working on a fierce looking set of fangs.  
  
Vlad sighed and hooked his fingers in the cable, pulling Robin's earphones out. "Don't be like this. You know I didn't do it on purpose."  
  
"Really?" Robin hissed at him as the rest of the cast started to flood into the room. "So you didn't use your vampire hypnosis to steal my role?"  
  
"No," Vlad hissed back, temper flaring, "I didn't."  
  
"Then why did you get the part?"  
  
"Because," Vlad gave in and spat what he had wanted to say all day, "I'm just better than you!"  
  
"That's what you think, is it?" Robin was on his feet now, glowering down at him. Vlad blinked at him in shock, taking in the way Robin was trembling with anger. He got the feeling that it wouldn't matter what he said in response, Robin could hold a grudge far better than most of the evil undead.  
  
Before the situation could escalate any further Mrs. Davies was tapping a ruler against the desk at the front of the room, dragging attention away from the hope of a fight. "Now that's the sort of passion I want to see. But, boys," she gave them both a warning glare, "let's keep it for the stage, shall we?"

* * *

"Right then, boys," at a prompting cough Van Helsing added, "and girls," for the benefit of the sole girl in the room, "let's make a start on this scenery."

"Sir?"  
  
"Yes, Price," Van Helsing looked at him expectantly, "I trust your father has no objections?"  
  
Price frowned back at him in confusion, "No." Shaking it off he went on, "Do we 'ave to do this? My brother got to make a coffee table when he did woodwork. Can't we make something useful?"  
  
"This is useful!" Van Helsing said enthusiastically. "Think of how proud you'll be when you see that retracting screen," he gestured at the plans in front of Price, "on stage on performance night."  
  
"I ain't going to see that shit!" A beat passed, two, "Sir."  
  
"It is going to be a bit rubbish, dad," Jonno nodded. "I mean, Vlad Count singing about vampires." He shrugged and pulled a face, "Vampires are the most ridiculous things I've ever heard of."  
  
Van Helsing frowned, not entirely sure why the comment sparked something in him. He certainly couldn't say he was looking forward to sitting through an hour and half of the likes of Vlad Count and Kyle Haskell singing.  
  
"I don't know," Jules piped up with a lecherous smirk on her face, "I thought Count was looking pretty hot at auditions. I wouldn't kick him out of bed."  
  
It was enough, once the horrified protestations to the contrary had died down, to convince the rest of the class that making scenery was the safer option to procrastination.

* * *

"Now, Vlad, I need you to be more, I don't know, vampiric. You're supposed to be seducing Mina, not having a chat about the weather." Mrs. Davies looked at him seriously, "Do you think you can do that?"

Vlad smirked, "I can give it a try, Miss."  
  
Ashleigh looked at him in disgust as he moved in closer; he'd heard her complaining to her friends at lunchtime about how she was going to have to let 'that minging little kid touch me'. It had been the only time he had seen Robin smile all day. He glanced over to where Robin was stood at the side of the room, arms folded across his chest, scowling for all he was worth – and it gave Vlad an idea.  
  
He might not have 'cheated' to get the role, but why shouldn't he use the advantages he had been given? It wasn't like it would do any harm.  
  
Concentrating, he caught Ashleigh's gaze, sending subtle encouragement across the bond. This time, when he reached out to trace his fingertips across her jugular she gasped and arched her neck back to give him better access, rather than sneering at him and straining away. When he finished she was short of breath, her eyes bright, and he couldn't hold back the smug smile that curled across his face.  
  
"I think that deserves a round of applause," Mrs. Davies said to the rest of the group, and Vlad mock bowed. The other boys clapped him on the shoulders, and he noticed the girls giggling and looking in his direction. It was everything he'd ever dreamed of. He was accepted, liked, popular.  
  
From the corner of his eye he saw Robin gathering up his bag. Their gaze locked as Robin stood in the doorway, the other boy's expression disappointed as he shook his head. And then, he was gone, and Owain and Josh were asking him if he wanted to go the arcade with them after practice. Vlad nodded and pushed Robin out of his mind.  
  
Real friends were happy for each other; he didn't need to put up with Robin's behaviour and, he thought with sudden decision, he wasn't going to. And, if Robin expected him to back down, then he was sorely mistaken.

* * *

"His hair is so hot," Trish said, staring wistfully at the back of Vlad's head.

Delila nodded, "I love his eyes; it's like they can see right inside you, you know what I mean?"  
  
"And his accent," Kelsey sighed, "it gives me goosebumps."  
  
Robin scowled at the 'I love V.C.' she was busy etching across the front of her exercise book. She wouldn't be so keen if she knew Vlad's real initials, Robin thought bitterly.  
  
"He's so rich," Delila went on, "they're like royalty in Romania."  
  
"Yeah," Robin cut in; temper fraying, "he still sleeps with a teddy bear too. Bet he doesn't boast about that though, does he?"  
  
"Branagh," Kelsey gave him a derisive look, "What would you know about it? As if Vlad would want to hang around with a loser like you." She shook her head and turned back to the other girls, shifting slightly in her seat so he couldn't speak to them again.  
  
In front of them Vlad laughed at something one of his new friends said and Robin glowered down at his own exercise book. He wasn't a loser.

* * *

"Look at him, he's such a loser," Josh grinned and Vlad followed his gaze to where Robin was sat alone, looking miserable as he chewed at his sandwich.

"He's not that bad when you get to know him," Vlad said quietly. He hated seeing Robin miserable.  
  
"No," Owain agreed, smirking, "he's worse!"  
  
"Come on," Josh grabbed his bag and made for the door, "I told the girls we'd meet them at the chippy."  
  
Vlad hesitated for a moment, looking back at Robin, before following. It wasn't like he was forcing Robin to sit on his own. If Robin wanted to apologise to him, well, he knew where to find him.

* * *

"These are great, Eric, but," Van Helsing looked at her expectantly as Mrs. Davies went on, "don't you think they might be a little dangerous?" She ran her thumb across the tip of the stake experimentally, narrowly avoiding drawing blood, "Perhaps a blunted edge might be more, er, appropriate."

"They need to be sharp to pierce the flesh." Van Helsing frowned in surprise, as if he wasn't quite sure why he had just said that. "But, you're right, it's hard enough to keep them from killing each other as it is."  
  
He gestured at the stage space and they both turned to watch as Robin and Vlad glowered at each other, delivering their lines in curt, clipped tones. Mrs. Davies shook her head, "Boys, come on! Whatever the problem is, leave it outside. Let's take it from 'Master, have I not served you well?'"  
  
Vlad scowled at the order; it wasn't like he was the one causing problems. Still, he did as he was told.  
  
Robin scowled back at him, but moved into position,  
  
"Master, 'ave I not served you well? Will you not reward me now?"  
  
"Reward you?" Vlad glared at Robin who ignored the stage directions, and instead stood his ground and glared back, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Vlad moved closer, doing his best to loom over Robin in spite of the fact the other boy was a good two inches taller than him  
  
He couldn't help but smirk as he delivered the next line, "You have dreamt of it; the touch of my fangs against your frail flesh."  
  
Robin swallowed and the glare shifted into something Vlad couldn't decipher. At the way Robin shrank away from his fingers as he reached to tilt his head to the side Vlad settled on fear. Frowning slightly he went on, "To be at my side for all eternity, to be my constant companion. Is that not your deepest desire?"  
  
As he leaned in, making as if to bite Robin, Vlad could feel him shaking and he quickly pulled back to look at him in concern. Robin refused to meet his gaze, but his cheeks were red and Vlad got the gratifying impression that Robin was embarrassed of himself. He had thought Robin knew him better than to think he would actually hurt him, no matter how angry he was with him.  
  
"Well, that was better," Mrs. Davies sighed, "but it still needs a lot of practice."  
  
Vlad turned to ask Robin if they could meet up later, but the other boy was already making his way out of the doors. Josh shrugged at him and mouthed one word,  
  
"Loser."

* * *

"Stay back, foul fiend!"

Vlad looked up in shock, only to see Paul Branagh beaming down at him, holding two straws out in the shape of a cross. Ian appeared at his side, mouth full of hamburger,  
  
"So you're going to be Dracula." He swallowed the food, "Nice. What are the girls like?"  
  
Josh answered for him, taking their food from the counter and leading them all over to a free table, "He gets to snog Ashleigh West." He slid into his seat, "And the other girls are all over him. It's like an orgy."  
  
Vlad blushed and made to protest but Paul spoke first, "Ian used to go out with her, didn't you bruv?"  
  
"Yeah," Ian agreed, shovelling french fries, "She couldn't handle me, know what I mean?"  
  
"Yeah, right, whatever you say, butt," Josh shook his head and Ian grinned.  
  
"That's what I said to my mam," Paul said, slurping at his coke, "Robin's in a proper strop but he wouldn't have liked it if he had got the part." Vlad looked at him curiously. Paul smirked, "I mean, snogging a girl. Hardly Robin's scene, is it?"  
  
The twins laughed and high-fived, Josh and Owain laughing along with them. Vlad smiled, but it was strained. Even if they weren't talking, it still made him feel like slime to laugh at Robin.  
  
"Vlad on the other hand," Owain nudged him, "is a proper little Romeo. I tell you, we'll be fighting them off with a stick at the bowling alley." Grinning widely he went on, "I hear they're all planning to ask you out tonight, you lucky git."  
  
This time Vlad managed a real smile. He didn't need Robin around to have a good time.

* * *

"It's a beautiful day."

Robin sniffed, not looking up from the television, "Is it?"  
  
"Why don't you go outside and get some fresh air?" Mrs. Branagh said, not giving up.  
  
"What? On my own?" Robin shook his head, "No, thanks."  
  
Mrs. Branagh sighed, "Well, why don't you go and knock for Vlad? I thought you were supposed to be teaching him how to ride a bike this weekend."  
  
"He's not speaking to me," Robin said bitterly. "I'm not good enough for him now that he's Mr. Popular."  
  
"Robin," Mrs. Branagh went on in mild exasperation, "Don't be silly. Vlad's your best friend. I bet he's sat up there right now, feeling miserable and wishing you would come and see him."  
  
Robin's surly expression faltered for a moment, "Really?"  
  
"Yes, really." Mrs. Branagh smiled, "So go on."  
  
She watched as Robin sighed, but went to go and fetch his shoes. Making her way back into the kitchen she smiled at Mina and explained, "They've had a bit of a falling out over this play." The door slammed behind Robin and she shook her head, "Men."

* * *

"Vlad," Kelsey sighed, "Don't you think we've practiced enough for one day?" She patted the bed next to her, "Come and sit down."

Vlad did so gingerly, very aware of the predatory look in her eyes, and the fact he had promised Delila they'd go to the cinema together later that afternoon. She shifted closer and smiled at him, dropping one hand onto his thigh.  
  
"I – " he looked at it nervously, "Do you want something to drink? I can go and get something from the kitchen. Or," he strained back as she moved closer still, "we could go and watch some TV."  
  
"I'm happy right here," Kelsey lowered her gaze slightly and Vlad jumped as his back made contact with the headboard, realising there was nowhere else to go. Kelsey pushed him back against it and grinned widely, clambering closer still. Vlad gave in, deciding that he had done his best to avert it as her lips crashed against his own.

Outside Vlad's bedroom door, Robin hesitated. Ingrid had let him in, and told him to go on up - her actual words had been 'Get out of my face, you're making me feel sick', but Robin felt the sentiment was the same. But, now, he was there, he wasn't at all sure it was a good idea.

What if Vlad didn't want to see him? He knew that he'd brought it upon himself, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with. He'd wanted Vlad to see there was more to him than being the butt of everyone else's jokes. That he could be the hero sometimes, as well as the bungling sidekick.  
  
He sighed and knocked lightly on Vlad's door before pushing it open; right now, so long as it was to Vlad, he'd be more than happy to settle for being the sidekick.

"Vlad!"

Kelsey pulled away from him, as if she had been burnt, and glared at Robin who was stood in the open doorway. Vlad pushed his shirt back down and followed her example. Getting up from the bed, he dragged Robin out into the hallway by his arm, and pushed the door shut behind him.  
  
"What are you doing here?" He hissed, certain his cheeks were burning hot enough to catch fire.  
  
"What were you doing with her?"  
  
Vlad took in Robin's scowl and felt the embarrassment being replaced by anger; it wasn't any of Robin's business. Out loud he said, "I would have thought it was pretty obvious! If you go away I can get back to it."  
  
Robin looked like he'd physically slapped him. "I was going to ask if you still wanted to learn to ride a bike. But," he sneered at him and gestured at the door, "I see you've already been taking lessons."  
  
"Take that back."  
  
"Make me."  
  
Vlad didn't hit him, but it was a struggle. "Get out of my house." He got up close in Robin's personal space, threatening, "We've got to do this play together but, after that, I never want to speak to you again. Understand?"  
  
"Fine, whatever," Robin spat after a long moment, clenching his hands into fists at his side. "But, trust me," Robin jabbed a finger at him, voice angry and cold, "they'll never accept you for who you are!"  
  
Robin stormed down the staircase and Vlad kicked at his door in temper. He didn't know why he had ever been friends with Robin.

* * *

"What is wrong with you?" Chloe scowled at Robin as he pushed past her on the staircase.

Robin scowled back, "You couldn't understand so, just, leave me alone!" He slammed his bedroom door behind him and flung his jacket against the wall. Switching the hi-fi on, he twisted the dial as far as it would go, taking grim satisfaction in the way the entire desk shook in time with the bass. Dropping down onto the bed he glared up at Dwight,  
  
"I bet you never had this problem, did you?"  
  
Dwight, being both long dead and on a poster, didn't answer. Robin buried his face in his pillow and willed the entire thing to be over with. If he'd gotten to be Dracula – like he was supposed to – this nightmare wouldn't be happening.

* * *

Ingrid sniffed the air, brow furrowing. "You've had a breather in here."

"I always have breathers in here," Vlad said sarcastically.  
  
"Branagh hardly counts." Ingrid sniffed again, "It was a girl!" She turned to him, grinning, "Bet Branagh didn't like that, did he?"  
  
"What's Robin got to do with anything?" Vlad asked, scowling. He had been doing his best not to think of the other boy.  
  
"Nothing," Ingrid smirked in a way that suggested she thought he had everything to do with it. "Where is he anyway?"  
  
Vlad pulled a face, "I don't know, and I don't care. I do have other friends."  
  
Ingrid just made a non-committal noise and swiped up the magazines he assumed she'd come for. Before she went she looked at his dresser and shook her head, smirking again. Once she had disappeared Vlad looked at it curiously to see what she'd found so funny. There was nothing on it but a strip of photos of him and Robin tacked to the mirror.  
  
Scowling he pulled them off and dropped them into the waste paper basket. He hesitated for a long moment before leaving them there and going to do his homework. What was the saying? Good riddance to bad rubbish.

* * *

"You cow!" Delila jabbed a finger in Kelsey's face, "You knew he was with me!"

"Bloody hell," Tommo nudged Price, "They're arguing over Count." They both turned to watch, a crowd quickly gathering around.  
  
Kelsey shrugged and sneered, "Can't help it if he prefers me, can I? Let's face it, who wouldn't?"  
  
"Only because they know you're a total slut," Delila smirked and folded her arms. "You'll drop them for anyone, and everyone knows it."  
  
Drew grinned at his friends and started chanting, "Fight, fight, fight!" Within seconds everyone else had joined in.  
  
Kelsey made a grab at her, pulling at her hair and screaming. Delila fought back, scramming at her face and struggling. Kelsey used her leverage to topple them both to the ground, hands still in Delila's hair. They were still grappling with each other as Van Helsing and Miss. Kowalski pulled them apart.  
  
"What is going on!" Van Helsing fixed them both with a glare, "This is a secondary school not a nursery!"  
  
"She started it!" Kelsey spat, trying to lunge at Delila again.  
  
"You bitch!" Delila shot back, being restrained by Miss. Kowalski, "She's been trying it on with my boyfriend!"  
  
Van Helsing shook his head, "Right, this is going straight to the headmistress' office." He turned to face the crowd, "You lot can clear off too. Now!"

* * *

Vlad shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, there really wasn't anything he could say in his defence.

Mrs. Harker shook her head, looking disappointed in all three of them. "See those gates," she pointed through the window to the school gates, "we leave this sort of thing outside them."  
  
"And fighting!" She went on, "We don't solve our problems through violence! What is wrong with you, girls?" She glared at them disapprovingly and they both looked down at the floor, "From the sound of it he's far from worth it."  
  
Vlad frowned, that was hardly fair.  
  
Sighing, she finished up, "Mr. Van Helsing will organise your detentions. Be thankful I've not decided to put you on report."  
  
Two murmured, 'Yes, Miss's filled the air.  
  
"Go back to your lessons." Vlad turned to leave too but she stopped him, "Not you, Vladimir." He looked up at her anxiously, surely she couldn't blame him for Delila and Kelsey fighting. She fixed him with a serious look,  
  
"What you do in your own time is your business. But, please, try and be a bit more sensible about it, alright?"  
  
Vlad glanced over at Van Helsing who was looking at him like he was some sort of insect and murmured, "Yes, Miss."  
  
"Go on then. And I don't want to have to speak to you again."  
  
He nodded and left the room, relieved it was over. As soon as the door was shut Mrs. Harker gave Van Helsing a despairing look,  
  
"Why do I get the feeling this is just the start of it?"

* * *

"So, come on then, Count. How do you do it?"

"Sorry?" Vlad blinked up at Price and his gang; they'd never made any effort to speak to him before. Unless it was to insult him, of course.  
  
"Get all the birds after you?" Price grinned and dropped down in the seat next to him, "Bloody brilliant that was at lunchtime!"  
  
"Yeah," Drew smirked and sat on the other side of him, "Got a proper good look up Delila's skirt."  
  
Vlad offered them a strained smile; it didn't sound all that brilliant to him. They grinned back, but Tommo just gave him a disinterested look. It put Vlad on edge.  
  
"You know," Price went on, "I always thought you were a total freak. Like Branagh," he looked pointedly at where Robin was sat on his own with his sketchbook. Mr. Perkins was busy and the substitute teacher seemed happy to let them do whatever they wanted. Robin was the only one who hadn't immediately gotten up and started talking. "But, I reckon you're alright."  
  
Price got to his feet, "We're all coming to see your dad direct later, should be a laugh."  
  
Vlad nodded awkwardly, he'd forgotten about that.  
  
"A word of warning though, yeah?" Price leaned back in, face twisting in threat, "Touch Kelsey again and I'll break your legs. She's with me." Standing up straight he gave him another smile, "See you later then, mate."  
  
That, Vlad thought as he watched them go, was _weird_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	2. Chapter 2

"Vladdy!" The Count was at his side the moment he walked through the door of the drama suite, "My son, my treasured heir, the star of the show!"  
  
"Dad," he hissed, "Don't be so embarrassing!"  
  
"Ah," The Count nodded in understanding, leering over at the girls, "I see. Don't you worry. When they see how attractive and charming I am, they'll only want you more. Yes, when I was your age," the Count pressed a hand to his own chest, launching into one of his endless self-serving stories. Vlad shook his head and made his escape whilst he was distracted, going to stand with Owain and Josh.  
  
"And my father said to me – Vlad?" The Count looked around, only to find Mrs. Davies in front of him. She took him by the arm and led him towards a seat in front of the stage area.  
  
"Thank you so much for this, Mr. Count. They'll really benefit from your expertise, I just know it."  
  
The Count smirked at her, "Yes, well, I am something of a genius. I taught Vlad everything he knows."  
  
Vlad, listening to the conversation, pulled a face. Could the rehearsal get any worse?  
  
"Vlad," Mrs. Davies smiled at him, "I thought we'd start with the scene where you kill Renfield. It needs the most work."  
  
"You kill Renfield?" The Count beamed and put on his 'director' cap, "Already it sounds like this will be the best play I've ever seen."  
  
Robin stomped onto the stage and glowered at him, and Vlad sighed. It was his life; of course it could get worse.

 

* * *

 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"  
  
The door crashed open, "Aw, sorry, Miss. Bit late are we?"  
  
Mrs. Davies glared at Price and the others, "Sit down. Quietly! Vlad, Robin; start again."  
  
Vlad bit his lip, but did as he was told. The sooner they got on with it, the sooner they could move on to something else.  
  
"Robin," Mrs. Davies spoke again as they moved back to their starting positions, "You're supposed to worship the ground he walks on. Try and look less like you want to stab him the moment his back is turned."  
  
Drew sniggered and nudged Price, "I bet he does."  
  
"He just 'aven't got a big enough knife," Tommo smirked and slouched further back in his seat.  
  
Mrs. Davies glared at them and they fell quiet. Vlad quashed the sympathy that threatened to break through at the expression on Robin's face. He didn't deserve it.  
  
From the corner of his eye Vlad could see his dad watching expectantly, fingers steepled together, and grimaced. Something was bound to go wrong.  
  
"Master," Robin began, "'ave I not served you well? Will you not reward me now?"  
  
"Reward you?" Vlad asked, striving for cold incredulity. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He stalked towards Robin, in imitation of what his dad would do in such a situation. Robin scowled at him and Vlad resisted the urge to shake him; if he would just do what the stage directions said, they wouldn't have to keep going over and over it.  
  
"You have dreamt of it; the touch of my fangs against your frail flesh." Vlad reached out and traced his fingers up the side of Robin's neck to his jawbone, tilting the other boy's head to the side. Robin shuddered in, Vlad assumed, revulsion and shut his eyes. "To be at my side for all eternity, to be my constant companion. Is that not your deepest desire?"  
  
He leaned in as if to bite, the script directing that he move away at the last moment and 'break' Renfield's neck instead, but the Count's horrified voice rang out before he had chance,  
  
"I wouldn't touch Renfield's filthy neck if he were the last breather on Earth!"

 

* * *

 

"So you see, Mr. Count," Mrs. Davies said, holding the script up for the Count to see it, "We've not altered the story in that respect at all." The Count looked suitably appeased and Vlad let out a relieved breath. Everyone seemed to regard the Count as being so weird anyway, that they were unmoved by his use of the first person and strange foreign words.  
  
"What I was hoping," Mrs. Davies went on, "was that you could give Robin some direction for this scene. He seems to be struggling with the concept of adoration." She looked at Robin in exasperation but he kept his gaze firmly on the floor.  
  
"Miss," Price piped up, attracting everyone's attention, "you should just tell Branagh to stop pretending Count's someone else." He grinned and more than one person started laughing in anticipation of what was coming next, "He's proper got the hots for Count, everyone knows that."  
  
This time Vlad couldn't help but offer Robin a sympathetic smile. Robin just blushed harder and turned away. Mrs. Davies sighed, "Price, if you want to stay, keep your opinions to yourself."  
  
"No," the Count swept to his feet, "the boy's right." Price smirked round at everyone as the Count gestured at Vlad, "Who wouldn't swoon at the sight of my precious Vladdy? Just look at him!"  
  
Vlad pulled a face, all too aware of the way Tommo Watson was mouthing the words 'precious Vladdy' and falling about laughing.  
  
The Count went on, obliviously, "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Robin, I've seen the way you look at him when you think no-one's watching." The Count shook his head and Robin's expression fell so fast Vlad thought that, if it wasn't for the fact he had a vested interest in the subject, he probably would have laughed.  
  
"Well," the Count clapped his hands together as if he'd successfully resolved the situation, "now that everyone knows you shouldn't have a problem doing it on stage too."  
  
Most of the room started laughing and Robin met his eyes for one brief moment, looking terrified, before making for the door as quickly as he could. Vlad watched him go in shock, and turned to face his dad who was still stood in front of the stage, looking very pleased with himself.  
  
"Thanks, dad." He shook his head, "Thanks a lot."  
  
As the door swung shut the Count turned to Mrs. Davies and said, without any trace of irony,  
  
"Always glad to be of assistance."

* * *

* * *

 

Vlad tapped at Robin's door; half wishing he  _was_  a cold unfeeling vampire so he wouldn't have to have this conversation. The disapproving look on Mr. Branagh's face as he had let him in had been bad enough. There was no answer so he pushed it open, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the perpetual gloom of Robin's bedroom.  
  
"Go away!" Robin hissed, swiping at his eyes. Vlad realised with a start that Robin had been crying, and for quite some time if the blotchy redness of his face was anything to go by. Vlad shut the door carefully, giving Robin a moment to sort himself out. He had never seen Robin cry before, not over anything.  
  
After a long, drawn out, moment of awkward silence Vlad decided it would be best if he just got straight to the point and asked, "Is it true? Do you really fancy me?"  
  
Robin shook his head and refused to meet his gaze, "What do you think?"  
  
"I don't know!" Vlad said in exasperation. "All you ever do is talk about all the," he hooked his fingers in the air, "fit girls you like." Robin kept quiet and Vlad went on, "And you're obsessed with Ingrid. What am I supposed to think?"  
  
Robin hid his face in his hands, knees pulled up to his chest, the way his shoulders were shaking giving it all away. Vlad suddenly felt awful and sat down on the bed next to him, reaching a hand out to awkwardly pat at his back,  
  
"I'm sorry, Robin."  
  
"It's-" He sobbed and Vlad had to look away, "I wasn't lying. I do like her. I just -," their gaze met properly for the first time since he had entered the room, "I like you more."  
  
"And that's why you had such a go at me over Kelsey," Vlad said quietly. "You were jealous."  
  
"I wanted you to look at me and see something other than Robin Branagh: world's biggest loser."  
  
"Oh, Robin," Vlad looked at him seriously, not knowing what was worse; the accusation in Robin's words, or the misplaced glimmer of hope on Robin's face that he was going to prove him completely wrong. "I don't think you're a loser." He went on quickly before Robin misunderstood, "I don't like you like that. But you're still my friend," he smiled at him, "aren't you?"  
  
Robin nodded, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.  
  
"Come on then," Vlad held out his hand, "shake on it."  
  
The other boy looked at him like he was mad for a moment, but took hold of his hand. Vlad did his best to look like he had some idea what they were going to do next and shook,  
  
"Friends."  


* * *

 

  
"Vlad's sat over there."  
  
Robin glared at his sister, "And?"  
  
Chloe looked at him like he was stupid, "And, why aren't you? I thought you two had made up."  
  
"We 'ave. Doesn't mean I'm going to go and sit with them," he hissed and pointed in the direction of Vlad and his popular crowd, "so they can all laugh at me."  
  
Chloe shrugged, "They'll laugh at you anyway. You might as well get something out of it."  
  
Robin didn't answer.

 

* * *

 

"Have you made a decision yet?"  
  
"Hmm?" Vlad asked; he hadn't been listening. His mind seemed intent on playing him a never ending loop of Robin's weird behaviour over the last few weeks.  
  
"Delila or Chantal?" Josh explained, smirking.  
  
"We ruled Kelsey out for you," Owain said round a mouthful of food, "'cos Price will kick your head in."  
  
"I'm not scared of Richard Price," Vlad pulled a face.  
  
Owain grinned, "You're the only one then."  
  
"Of course," Josh nudged him, mouth twitching with the effort not to laugh, "there's always Branagh. How could you pass that opportunity up?"  
  
Vlad followed his gaze to where Robin was sat with Chloe, and thought of the way Robin hadn't been able to stop himself crying in front of him. Feeling more annoyed with himself than them, he snapped, "Just leave him alone, alright. You don't know anything about it."  
  
Josh and Owain shared a look, laughing, but didn't bring it up again.

 

* * *

 

"I feel sorry for him," Mina said, sipping at her coffee, "it must have been awful, everyone finding out like that. In front of Vlad too."  
  
Mr. Perkins shook his head, looking up from a pile of marking, "I don't know what it is with Count lately; they're all crazy over him. I had to break up an argument between little Samia Singh and Faith Bradley earlier over who would have more of a chance with him!"  
  
"It's all because of this play," Van Helsing said knowingly. "I've told Mina before, vampires are dangerous. It's putting ideas in their heads. I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time before we have a serious incident on our hands."  
  
"Eric," Mina sighed, "don't be so over dramatic. It's not like he's using some magical vampire power to enthral them all!" She laughed, "They would have been fighting over whoever got the lead role, trust me."  
  
Van Helsing just looked out through the staff room window, watching as Vlad and Chantal Foster made their way past, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

 

* * *

 

At the next set of rehearsals Vlad found himself desperate not to have to go back over the scene with Robin. Before they got started he waited until Robin was within hearing distance and spoke to Mrs. Davies,  
  
"Miss, I was thinking."  
  
"Yes, Vlad?"  
  
He glanced over at Robin, making sure the other boy was listening, "Maybe me and Robin could practice that scene over the weekend before we do it on stage again. Because, you know." He trailed off, hoping he wouldn't have to spell it out.  
  
"That's very considerate of you, Vlad. So long as you do practice it."  
  
Vlad nodded and offered Robin a smile. Robin didn't smile back. He wasn't being considerate, and they both knew it.

* * *

 

"Ingrid!"  
  
"Yes, Vladdy-kins?" Ingrid appeared, smirking, obviously well aware of why he had yelled for her.  
  
"What," he gestured at the mirror angrily, "is this?"  
  
Ingrid moved closer to the dresser, peering at it as if she had never seen it before. "That's you, and that's Branagh. And that," she smirked widely, "is a little pink love heart." She turned to look at him, "Aw."  
  
Vlad swiped the photos off the mirror and crumpled them up before throwing them back into the waste paper basket. "It's not funny!"  
  
"Isn't it? It made me laugh."  
  
Vlad glowered, "Just get out of my room."  
  
Ingrid grinned, clearly pleased with herself, and snapped her fingers, disappearing into thin air. Vlad shook his head; she always had been a total drama queen. Sighing, he moved to the window, looking out at the sprawling mass of housing below. He couldn't put it off forever.

* * *

 

"Hey, I've been looking for those!" Vlad swiped up the pile of CDs on Robin's desk, flicking through them.  
  
Robin glanced over his shoulder at them and shrugged, "You left them here." He pulled a face, "Aw, no, don't put it on."  
  
Vlad grinned, the awkwardness between them momentarily dissipating. "You love it really, you know you do. I bet you haven't stopped playing them." He bopped his head in time as music filled the room.  
  
"Yeah, right," Robin grimaced. "It probably wouldn't be so bad if it was in English."  
  
"It wouldn't be the same in English." Vlad sang a few lines, and then smirked at Robin. "Romanian is so much sexier."  
  
Robin blushed and the awkwardness came crashing back. 'Way to go!' Vlad thought angrily, why could he never keep his mouth shut? Sighing he said, "Come on then, we should probably get started."  
  
They moved into position and Vlad tried not to think about the fact that he was, essentially, supposed to act like he was seducing Robin. Robin met his gaze anxiously as they worked through the lines, doing nothing to calm Vlad's nerves.  
  
When he touched his fingers to Robin's skin the other boy arched his neck obediently and Vlad swallowed, suddenly light headed. He imagined what it would be like to get that submission for real; for somebody to offer themselves up to him. He wished he had had the sense to turn the stereo off before they began. His ears were full of the melody of his favourite love song, and Robin's quickened breathing.  
  
Bending his head he inhaled deeply, the smell of Robin's aftershave, soap and the underlying scent he always associated with Robin flooding his senses. He could feel the thrum of Robin's pulse under his fingertips and it was threatening to short-circuit his brain. Vlad closed his eyes, he couldn't remember ever having felt like this, not even in his dreams when pretty, nameless, girls let him sink the fangs he didn't yet have into their willing necks.  
  
Before he could think about what he was doing he had replaced his fingers with his lips, sucking wetly at Robin's neck, one hand in Robin's hair, the other clutching at his shoulder. His own heart pounded in his chest at the way Robin flung his head back, giving him better access, his fingers tangling in Vlad's hair, pressing him closer still.  
  
"Vlad."  
  
Realisation broke through the haze in Vlad's head and he pulled away in horror, swiping at his mouth with one hand. Robin met his gaze with dark, unfocussed eyes and Vlad felt sick.  
  
"I'm really sorry, Robin. I didn't mean – I don't –" he grabbed his jacket from the bed in panic, "I have to go."  
  
Barrelling down the Branagh's staircase and out into the weak afternoon sunlight, he didn't slow down until he reached the park. Sinking down onto one of the benches he put his head in his hands. They were never going to get through this.

* * *

* * *

 

"What's that on your neck, Robin?"  
  
"Nothing," Robin answered, pulling at his shirt collar.  
  
"Let me see," Mrs. Branagh got up, "it looks sore."  
  
"I said," Robin squirmed away, blushing, "it's nothing."  
  
"That," Mr. Branagh said, able to see from his position, "is a love bite." He smiled up at his wife, "I think I gave you enough of them when we were young to know what they look like."  
  
"Dad! Don't be so disgusting!" Robin protested as Mrs. Branagh smiled back at Graham fondly.  
  
"Who'd give him a love bite?" Ian asked, shaking his head.  
  
"Yeah," Paul pulled a face, "they'd 'ave to actually touch him."  
  
"It's not a love bite!" Robin protested.  
  
Mrs. Branagh peered at it closely, "it looks fresh." Robin sighed in exasperation, why couldn't they just leave him alone? "But you've only seen Vlad… Oh, Robin," she beamed at him, "did you and Vlad get together?"  
  
"No!"  
  
Paul frowned, "But he gave you that?"  
  
"Can we just stop talking about it!" Robin glared at the way the rest of his family were staring at him expectantly. "Vlad isn't interested in me," he scowled at his mum, "how many more times do I 'ave to say it?"  
  
"Then why was he sucking at your neck?" Chloe asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. She remembered everything too and Robin looked away, he didn't have an answer that would satisfy her curiosity. In fact, he didn't have an answer at all.  
  
Mr. Branagh scowled, misreading the situation, "Has he been leading you on? Because, if he has, I've a good mind to go and have a word with him."  
  
"No!" Everyone looked at him in shock and Robin pushed away from the table, "Don't make things worse than they already are!" Shaking his head he fled the room, making for his bedroom before he could embarrass himself any more than he already had.  
  
Ian looked round the table in confusion; "So, did Vlad do it or not?"

* * *

 

Vlad walked in through the hallway to be met with a sight that made his blood run cold. Chantal Foster was sat on his dad's throne, the Count himself looming over her, lips just touching the bottle tanned skin of her neck.  
  
"Dad! What are you doing!"  
  
"Vlad," the Count looked up in obvious annoyance, "I was just getting to the good bit."  
  
"That's my girlfriend."  
  
The Count waved a hand dismissively, "You were busy with your peasant friend." He flitted in front of Vlad and leant in close, "Surely you wouldn't begrudge your own father a quick bite?"  
  
Vlad pulled a face, "Nobody is going to be biting anyone." He went over to Chantal, who was sat still and placid in a trance, her head tilted to one side.  
  
"I worry about you, Vlad," the Count put a hand on his shoulder, "A boy your age should be sharpening his fangs on every neck he sees." The Count took in Vlad's sheepish expression and grinned, "Ha! I knew it! You have been practising."  
  
Doing his best to ignore his dad's gloating, Vlad helped Chantal up and led her across the room. In the open doorway he met her gaze and snapped his fingers.  
  
"Oh, Vlad," she blinked at him.  
  
He plastered on a false smile, "Thanks for a great afternoon. I'll ring you tomorrow." With that he pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek and shut the door.  
  
"You didn't need to send her home on my account," the Count said, lounging across his throne.  
  
Vlad just shook his head and made for his bedroom. He was not in the mood to deal with any of it.

* * *

  
"So you will go then, yes?"  
  
"Do I 'ave any choice?" Robin asked, trying to concentrate on his games console.  
  
"It is your dad's birthday," Mrs. Branagh said, laying it on thick, "and he wants us to spend a night together at the bowling alley, as a family." She smiled at him, "Why don't you ask Vlad to come with us?"  
  
"If I don't want to go, why would Vlad?" He scowled as his on-screen persona was run through with a sword.  
  
Mrs. Branagh looked pointedly at the fading mark on his neck.  
  
Robin sighed, "Aw, alright." Mrs. Branagh grinned at him. "But don't get your hopes up."

* * *

 

"Vlad?"  
  
Vlad looked up from tying his football boots to see Robin stood in front of him, fidgeting anxiously.  
  
"Can I speak to you?"  
  
Looking around him he nodded, there was no reason why not. His gaze fell on the dark bruise on Robin's neck and he amended that statement. There was no reason why not, bar his own discomfort.  
  
"It's just – you don't have to if you don't want to, but I thought – I mean. It wasn't my idea –"  
  
"Bloody hell, spit it out, Branagh!" Price called from across the room.  
  
"Yeah," Davis smirked, "Just ask him to suck your cock and be done with it."  
  
Vlad glared at them both, "Why don't you just shut up for once?"  
  
"You starting something, Count?" Price was on his feet in an instant, up in his face.  
  
"What if I am?" Vlad stared him down, feeling as if he was watching from outside of himself. It was strange; he wasn't afraid. If he wanted to he could beat the other boy to a pulp, he was sure of it.  
  
"You'd be making a big mistake," Price hissed. Everyone was gathered around them now, watching intently.  
  
"He's not worth it, Vlad." Robin said from the sidelines.  
  
Price turned to glare at him, "You can shut up and all, Branagh. Unless you want my fist in your face." He grinned as Robin scowled back at him, "It's ugly enough as it is."  
  
The words were barely out of his mouth before Vlad had lunged at him, fist connecting with his nose and pushing him back against the benches. Price hit him back, trying to get him in a headlock.  
  
"Hit him, Rich! Batter him!"  
  
"Come on, Vlad! Hit him!"  
  
Vlad shoved Price back against the wall, holding him in place, breath coming in heavy pants. Price shoved at him again and Vlad pulled his fist back, making to hit him again when somebody grabbed hold of him and pulled him away.  
  
"That's enough, Count! That's enough!"  
  
The anger drained away and Vlad looked around, shocked to see piles of uniform and bags on the floor. Price was clutching at his nose, blood seeping through his fingers.  
  
Mr. Jenkins stood between them, keeping them both at an arms length, "What the hell is going on here!"

* * *

  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't exclude you," Mrs. Harker looked at him disapprovingly, "You nearly broke his nose."  
  
"I know." Vlad looked down at the floor. He still couldn't believe it; it was like the more he acted at being a vampire, the more he actually became one. The fighting, the hypnotism. If it weren't for the fact his fangs hadn't yet descended Robin would probably be a paid up member of the un-dead club.  
  
"I'm waiting."  
  
Vlad sighed, "He was making fun of Robin, Miss. And then he threatened to beat him up."  
  
Mrs. Harker raised an eyebrow, "So you thought you'd get in there first?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss. It won't happen again."  
  
"No, Vlad, it won't." Softening slightly she went on, "I've heard about what happened last week, but that's no excuse for fighting. I'm sorry, but, I'm going to have to put you on report."  
  
"Yes, Miss," Vlad murmured. "I'm really sorry, Miss."  
  
"Alright, Vlad. Off you go."  
  
She shook her head as she watched him go; the quiet ones were always the worst.

* * *

  
"Wahey!" The room broke into applause as Vlad walked through the door to the drama suite, Josh leading the celebration, "Three cheers for Vlad!"  
  
"For what?" Vlad asked in confusion.  
  
"For clobbering Price, of course! Many have dreamt of it, but few have dared!"  
  
Vlad blushed but grinned, enjoying the attention. His gaze fell on Robin and he felt his good mood slip. Robin pushed his way towards him as Mrs. Davies started organising Josh and the others to practice the boy's song.  
  
"What were you thinking, Vlad! He could have killed you! What did Harker say?"  
  
Vlad frowned at the barrage of questions; Robin looked anxious, like he had really been worrying about him and it was making Vlad feel uncomfortable. "She put me on report." In answer to his other question he said simply, "I wasn't going to let him speak to you like that." He shrugged slightly, not wanting to admit to Robin the blinding rage that had gone through him at the thought of anyone laying a finger on him.  
  
"Really?" Robin whispered, mindful of Josh singing, so close that Vlad could smell the same heady mix that had sent his head spinning back in Robin's bedroom. Robin looked up at him seriously, "We need to talk, Vlad."  
  
"Is that what you wanted to ask me earlier?" Vlad asked, carefully sidestepping the real issue.  
  
"What? No," Robin shook his head. "It's dad's birthday on Saturday and my mam wants to know if you want to go bowling with us." He shrugged, "I told her you wouldn't, but you know what she's like."  
  
"I would," Vlad started awkwardly, knowing Robin could tell he was lying; he had been doing his best to avoid Robin all week. "But I promised Chantal I'd see her on Saturday. We're going bowling with everyone," he gestured at the other people he'd started hanging around with, "so I'll probably see you there."  
  
"Right," Robin looked disappointed and Vlad focussed on the stage. It wasn't like he'd asked Robin to start fancying him. "Can we still talk though?"  
  
"Vlad," Mrs. Davies called, "Come on, it's your scene."  
  
He gave Robin an apologetic look and made for the stage in relief. Talk? Not if he could help it.

* * *

 

"Robin, we're waiting!"  
  
Robin gave his reflection one last appraising look, smoothing down his best shirt, before heading downstairs. He didn't even know why he cared so much. It wasn't like Vlad was going to change his mind the moment he saw him with gel in his hair and a half decent shirt on.  
  
"Okay," Paul said, looking him up and down, "who are you and what 'ave you done with my brother?"  
  
"I like your hair," Mrs. Branagh smiled at him, "very smart." Robin smiled back, hoping that wasn't just mam speak for 'you look like an idiot but, as your mother, I'm obliged to lie to you about it'.  
  
They all followed Mr. Branagh out to the van, Chloe falling back to fix Robin with a quizzical look.  
  
"He's going to be there with Chantal," Robin sneered by way of explanation.  
  
"You know, I reckon you might be in with a chance," Chloe gave him a half smile, "his taste just keeps getting worse and worse."  
  
Robin pulled a face and gave her a playful shove into the van. Even backhanded compliments were better than nothing.

* * *

  
"Strike!" Owain yelled in triumph, punching the air and gloating.  
  
Vlad shook his head in bemusement, gaze wandering back towards the entrance. What he saw made him start in shock. The Branaghs were at the front desk, checking in their shoes; but he had already known they were going to be there. Had been unable to keep himself from checking for their arrival every thirty seconds.  
  
What had attracted his attention was Robin. He watched closely as the other boy trailed over to the lanes with the rest of his family, taking in the sight of his styled hair and blood red shirt with far more interest than he supposed he should. Robin never made that much effort. In spite of preening in front of every reflective surface he came into contact with he was fairly certain that, in Robin's opinion, putting on a clean T-shirt was something only done to mark a special occasion.  
  
"Oh. My. God." Chantal started, cutting through his pondering and drawing the rest of the group's attention, "What does Branagh look like?"  
  
"He must think he's going to get lucky," Josh said, smirking.  
  
Vlad felt a stab of something go through him. Surely Robin couldn't have replaced him already? He wasn't sure what unnerved him more. The thought that he had; or the fact he even cared enough to worry about it.  
  
Chantal shook her head and shifted closer to Vlad, manoeuvring his arm until it was wound around her waist. Vlad dragged his attention away from Robin to see her smiling at him, "In his dreams, eh?"

* * *

 

"Oh, yeah, I'm in the lead, oh, yeah, oh, yeah." Paul was biting at his lip and performing some sort of victory shuffle across the polished floor. Robin shook his head and looked away; to think the twins had the gall to call him a freak.  
  
"Not for long, miladdo," Mr. Branagh said, carefully selecting a ball from the rack, "I'll have you know that I won the 'South Wales Cub Scout Under 8's Bowling Championship' two years running."  
  
Robin did his best to tune his dad's gloating out and gave into the urge to just sit and watch Vlad. The other boy was sat three lanes over, his arm wrapped around Chantal, laughing at something somebody had said. He wasn't too proud to admit that the sight made him feel sick with jealousy.  
  
He wished he had some way of making Vlad jealous, to let him know what it felt like to have to sit there and watch. But even if by some miracle somebody did want him, he thought bitterly, Vlad still wouldn't care. He watched, his hands feeling cold and icy, as Vlad leaned in to kiss her, his hand coming up to rest on the back of her head.  
  
It made him think of Vlad's hand in his own hair, holding him still as he had sucked at his neck, the sensation enough to make him certain that his knees had been going to buckle with excitement at any moment. He had barely managed to think of anything else since. Except for the look of disgust on Vlad's face when he had realised what he was doing.  
  
Vlad pulled back from Chantal and, rather than disgust or horror, his expression was soft and open. He smiled at her before leaning in again and Robin got to his feet shakily, scared he might cry or do something as equally stupid if he had to watch for a moment longer.  
  
"Going out for some air," he managed to mumble before making his escape. He was such a loser.

* * *

 

"But Robin, it's your turn!" Ian called after his brother but Robin didn't turn around. Looking back at the others he said, "What's his problem?"  
  
Chloe coughed lightly and inclined her head in Vlad's direction, to where he and Chantal were still kissing like it was a private room, not the middle of a busy bowling alley.  
  
Mr. Branagh's expression turned stony, "There's no need for that. He could see Robin was there."  
  
Paul looked first at Vlad, then to where Robin was leaning against the railings outside, then back to Vlad again before nudging Ian, "Come on, bruv."

* * *

  
Vlad was leant against the serving counter, trying to decide which flavour of pop his dad would be least likely to be able to smell on him, when somebody appeared at his side, encroaching well into his personal space.  
  
He looked up, "Ian?" He felt another presence on his other side, "Paul?"  
  
"Vlad," Paul leaned in closer still as Ian ordered drinks, "Bit of alright, isn't she?" Vlad followed Paul's gaze back across the alley to Chantal and nodded apprehensively.  
  
"Definitely," Ian agreed, sharing a look with his brother that creeped Vlad out; it was like some secret code that he didn't have the key to. "Makes me wonder why you'd 'ave to slobber all over Robin."  
  
"What?" Vlad looked at him with wide eyes; he couldn't believe that Robin would have told anyone. And the twins of all people.  
  
"Look," Paul sighed, "we know that Robin's a freak. But -," he shook his head, "I can't believe I'm saying this – don't mess him about." He looked pointedly out to where Robin was sat on the benches, Vlad lowered his gaze. The twins took their drinks and Ian clapped him across the shoulder,  
  
"He's stroppy enough as it is."

* * *

 

"Come to laugh at me, 'ave you?"  
  
"Why would I want to laugh at you?" Vlad sighed and slumped down onto the bench next to him. Robin seemed to have developed an innate ability to take offence at everything he said and shrugged moodily,  
  
"Everyone else does."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm not everyone else, am I?"  
  
Robin looked up at him at that, the same look on his face as when he'd told him he'd attacked Price for him. "What do you want, Vlad?"  
  
Vlad thought about it. Intellectually, he just wanted his life to be less confusing. He wanted to be normal; to sit with his new friends, and his new girlfriend, and have people praise him for being able to get on stage and pretend to be something he wasn't. But the other part of him, the one that had wanted to smash Price's nose across his face, the part that made his breath hitch every time he remembered Robin arching his neck in invitation, had no such concerns.  
  
Out loud he said, "I like your hair like that." He touched his fingers to the wisps of hair covering his ears and moved in closer, without any real input from his brain. Robin's dark, wide-eyed gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips and back again, and Vlad struggled to remember why this was a bad idea, shifting closer still until he could feel Robin's breath fan against his cheek.  
  
They stayed like that for a long moment, Vlad's heart thumping double time against his rib cage, before Robin pressed their lips together, the movement clumsy and desperate. Vlad kissed back, gently pushing his hand into Robin's hair to keep his head in place, taking control of the situation. Robin let him, and it sent thrills of excitement through him, more intense than anything he'd felt with his supposed girlfriends.  
  
When he moved back to breath, Robin tried to follow him, his dark eyes almost black. Robin's hand reached for his own and he made to take it, intent on kissing Robin again when Chantal's voice rang across the still night air and he grimaced, pulling away.  
  
"What do you think you're doing!?"  
  
Robin reached for his hand again and he shook his head, getting to his feet to put distance between them. What was he doing?

* * *

* * *

 

  
"That's a nice set of black eyes you've got there."  
  
"Count gave him them," Jules smirked, looking up from where she was putting the finishing touches to her scenery.  
  
Van Helsing raised an eyebrow at the faint blush that bloomed across Price's cheeks.  
  
"He's a nutjob, Sir," Price sniffed. "All I did was tell him his boyfriend's a minger."  
  
"I thought he was seeing Chantal Foster," Jonno frowned, leaning back against his desk and wiping his hands on his apron.  
  
"He is," Price smirked, the bruising across his face only serving, in Jonno's opinion, to make him look more menacing, "didn't stop him from sticking his tongue down Branagh's throat though. My brother saw him."  
  
Jonno pulled a face, "Is that why Branagh's dropped out of the play then?"  
  
"Who knows," Price heaved one half of the scenery up, "who cares?"

Jonno nodded and lifted his own end, who indeed?

* * *

 

"Robin."  
  
"Don't speak to me, Vlad," Robin refused to meet his gaze and Vlad had to increase his speed to keep up with him.  
  
"I've said I'm sorry."  
  
Robin ignored him.  
  
They turned into Robin's street and Vlad tried desperately to think of something that would change Robin's mind. "Look," he started, "I know I was out of order. But you have to do the play; it won't be anything without you."  
  
"I don't 'ave to do anything," Robin hissed at him, coming to a halt. "You didn't 'ave to stand there and say 'it's not what it looks like,'" he scowled harder, "'I was only messing about.' But you did!"  
  
Vlad looked away, ashamed. "I didn't know what else to do."  
  
"Here's an idea for you," Robin shook his head and made for his front door, "drop dead." Vlad winced as Robin slammed the door in his face; he'd deserved that.

* * *

 

"I'm not doing it."  
  
"Come on, Robin," Mrs. Branagh smiled, turning off the TV earning protests from Robin and the twins, "I've spent hours on this costume."  
  
"I didn't ask you to."  
  
"You'll be letting everybody down."  
  
"And?" Robin shrugged, "Serves them right."  
  
"They're probably relieved," Paul said, "we all know that Robin can't sing."  
  
Ian laughed, "Yeah, remember that karaoke contest in Porthcawl?"  
  
Robin shot them both a filthy look, "I can sing."  
  
"Why don't you prove it then?" Mrs. Branagh goaded, shaking his costume at him.  
  
Robin just shook his head and pushed his way up to his bedroom. Ian grabbed the remote control and put the TV back on, grinning at his brother,  
  
"Lucky escape, eh?"

* * *

 

  
"What," Ingrid asked, choking with laughter, "are you wearing!"  
  
Vlad sniffed, "It's for the dress rehearsal."  
  
"Even dad wouldn't wear something as shocking as that," Ingrid laughed again and Vlad scowled. When he'd tried it on last night Chantal had assured him he looked 'totally hot'. The look on Ingrid's face suggested it might be subjective.  
  
"All you need now," she went on, smirking, "is a moustache and you can put one of those little ads in the back pages of PlayVamp. I can see it now," she could hardly speak for laughing, "'Mildly ill-mannered wimpire seeks experienced breather-lover for bondage fun. Complete lack of taste a must.'"  
  
"You're so funny," Vlad said sarcastically, grabbing his schoolbag and making for the door.  
  
"I know!" Ingrid called after him and Vlad grimaced. Why did she always have to have the last word?

* * *

 

"Branagh, you batty; get out of my way!"  
  
Vlad spun around to see Robin stepping back hurriedly, narrowly avoiding being whacked across the head with a piece of panelling by Price and Jonno Van Helsing. Mrs. Davies bustled over, "Robin, thank goodness! I was starting to worry you were serious about dropping out."  
  
As soon as she was gone Vlad made his way over, wanting to apologise – again. He knew Robin was well within his rights to be angry with him; he had acted, well, like a vampire. Robin looked him up and down, appraising, and Vlad couldn't help but think of Ingrid falling about laughing earlier that morning.  
  
"I know," he gestured at himself, "I look like an idiot."  
  
"No," Robin swallowed, "no, you don't." Seeming to pull himself together he went on, "I'm not doing this for you."  
  
Vlad nodded, "I know. But I'm still grateful."  
  
Robin fixed him with a look Vlad couldn't quite work out for a long moment, before turning away and muttering. "Whatever."

* * *

 

"That dress is obviously mine," Kelsey sneered, making a grab for it.  
  
"Er, no," Ashleigh glared back, "look at it." She held it out against herself, "It would never fit over your fat hips."  
  
"You cow!"  
  
"Girls!" Mrs. Davies called and they broke apart, looking sheepish. "Stop arguing. Your names are on the labels."  
  
Ashleigh pulled back the collar and scowled. Kelsey grinned, "What does it say?"  
  
"Chantal," Ashleigh spat.  
  
Both girls scowled as Chantal took it, smirking all over her face, smiling over at Vlad before going to get changed. "What," Kelsey asked bitterly, all animosity towards Ashleigh suddenly forgotten, "does he see in her?"

* * *

 

"I feel sick," Josh said, peering round a gap in the curtains to where the hall was full of all the kids who had helped out with the play. Vlad shifted so he could see too and was unnerved to see Price in the front row.  
  
"Right," Mrs. Davies clapped her hands, dragging his attention away from the audience, "Let's give it our best!"

* * *

 

"Vampires, you say? What rot!" Kelsey laughed, pressing a hand to her chest.  
  
"I assure you that I am perfectly serious," Owain said solemnly, "I have heard such stories that would make the very blood in your veins turn to ice, so chilling are they."  
  
Kyle removed his glasses and made a show of polishing them, "At this moment I have in my care a most peculiar case. An individual convinced of vampiric phenomena."  
  
"See," Kelsey placed a hand on Owain's arm, her carefully rouged lips tilting up into a smile, "the only place for such beliefs is a sanatorium!"  
  
"Let us observe for ourselves, that we might decide as to the sanity – or otherwise – of this fellow," said Josh.  
  
Kyle nodded and beckoned David, who was playing the butler over, and Robin felt his legs turn to jelly. He didn't want to have to go on stage. A wave of nausea washed over him and he looked around the backstage area, his skin feeling clammy. His gaze fell on Vlad and he took a deep breath, inching closer to the curtain.  
  
He wasn't a loser, and he could sing. His cue came and he stepped out onto the stage shakily; he'd show them all.

* * *

 

Vlad tapped his hand against his leg nervously, shifting to let two boys in charge of scenery past. Careful to keep behind the line he watched as Robin got ready to sing; he felt bad for Robin, they all knew he had been cast more for his notoriety around the school, than for his limited talent.  
  
He was surprised then when Robin's voice rang out strong and clear. It was nothing on his own, he knew, but it was so much better than his mangled attempts back in his bedroom that Vlad had to look twice before his brain could be certain it was Robin. He wondered how much practice Robin must have put in to pull if off and determined, as he got into place for his own scene, to make yet another attempt at apologising as soon as they were finished.

* * *

 

They were over halfway through when Vlad found himself at the curtain again, watching Robin on stage. 'Van Helsing' and the others were demanding he tell them where his 'master' was. He could hardly believe how smoothly the whole thing was going; if it went like this on the night his only worry would be his dad's inevitable wrath when 'Harker' slayed him.  
  
As it was about fifty seconds before curtain down, he was hoping his yelling might get drowned out by applause. He was hoping.  
  
On stage Kelsey was leading Chantal and the other 'brides' from behind the back curtain. Robin, as Renfield, made his escape as they advanced on the others. Vlad felt his heart speed up as the other boy approached him. Within seconds Robin was in front of him and Vlad shifted slightly, so he wouldn't be able to get past without asking him to move.  
  
"You were really good earlier. Really good."  
  
"Get out of my way."  
  
"Please forgive me, Robin," Vlad said hurriedly, meeting Robin's gaze in an attempt to prove his sincerity. "You're my best friend. I miss you."  
  
"Why do you 'ave to do this to me, Vlad?" Robin asked, looking away but Vlad could see the way his eyes glimmered in the dim light. "Do you even," he met Vlad's gaze again, eyes slightly wild, "'ave any idea what you do to me?"  
  
The desperation in Robin's voice tugged at something deep within him and Vlad found himself whispering back, "Tell me."  
  
Robin took a step towards him and for a moment – one mad, terrifying, exhilarating moment – he was sure Robin was going to kiss him. Then a scream rang out from the stage, a real scream, and Chantal pushed past them, her dress torn and hanging from her chest, her bra on show.  
  
Laughter roared from the audience and Vlad turned to see Kelsey and Delila laughing right along with them. When he turned back both Robin, and the moment, were well and truly gone.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	3. Chapter 3

"It had absolutely nothing to do with me," Mrs. Branagh said, shaking her head. "I didn't make that dress."  
  
"I wish I'd been there," Ian said wistfully, "did you get a good look, Robin?"  
  
"I wasn't really that interested," Robin answered sarcastically, leaning across the table for more bread.  
  
Paul sighed, "Vlad is so lucky." Mr. Branagh coughed pointedly and Paul hastily went on, "But, er, not as lucky as he would be if he 'ad you." Paul grinned, obviously pleased with himself for avoiding a potentially dangerous situation.  
  
Robin just pulled a face. "I think I prefer it when you're being horrible to me."

* * *

 

"Let me get this straight," Ingrid put up a hand to halt him, "you want  _me_  to lend one of my dresses to  _her?_ "  
  
"Yeah," Vlad nodded eagerly, "because who has a more vampiric wardrobe than you?" Flattery got you anywhere. At least, he hoped it would.  
  
"What's in it for me?"  
  
"Uh," Vlad frowned; he really hadn't thought this through. "What do you want?"  
  
"Money."  
  
"I," Vlad shrugged, doing his best to sound convincing, "don't have any."  
  
"You've got twenty pounds in the back of your dresser drawer. I want it."  
  
Vlad grimaced, "I'm saving that." He was never going to be able to afford that guitar.  
  
"Fine," Ingrid made to slam the door.  
  
"Wait!"  
  
She smirked and leant against the door, waiting for him to give in.  
  
He sighed, "Alright, I'll give you the money. But," he fixed her with as forceful a look as he dared, "it had better be worth it."  
  
"Oh, don't worry, Vlad." Ingrid smirked at him, "I'm sure it will be."

* * *

 

"Does Vlad kill you too?"  
  
Chantal shook her head, "No." She looked around the hall curiously, tracing her fingertips across the spines of a shelf full of titles on dismemberment. Vlad cringed; if Ingrid didn't hurry up he would have yet more awkward questions to answer.  
  
"Pity," the Count answered, leering at her, "you have too fine a neck to go to waste."  
  
"Er, thanks?"  
  
"She's playing a vampire, dad," Vlad said, hoping that would be an end to the conversation.  
  
Chantal smiled, "Yeah, a bride of Dracula. It's, like, a really famous role."  
  
"Indeed?" The Count moved closer to her, "I must say," he arched an eyebrow, "I couldn't have picked better myself."  
  
"What he means-," Vlad started anxiously.  
  
"Is that he's a lecherous old man," Ingrid finished, looking the Count up and down in disgust. Glancing at Vlad, taking in the head to toe leather he was still wearing, she shook her head. "Well, come on then," she addressed Chantal, "I don't have all day."  
  
The Count watched them go with a scowl, turning to Vlad the moment the door closed and hissing, "I am not _old_!"

* * *

 

"Ow, you're hurting me!" Chantal frowned as Ingrid yanked at the corset fastening of the dress.  
  
"You know what they say," Ingrid leant in close and Chantal swallowed instinctively, "no pain, no gain." She grinned as the scent of fear filled the air; it really was too easy. "So, tell me," she yanked again and Chantal made a noise of discomfort, "what do you see in Vlad?"  
  
"He's so handsome," Chantal said, dreamily. "His hair, it's so-"  
  
"Yes, yes," Ingrid pulled a face. Was there a more nauseating topic than Vlad's hair? Vlad's face sprang to mind as an obvious contender. Making an effort to soften her tone she said, "We – dad and I – had almost given up hope; it's so," Ingrid paused, purely for drama, "refreshing to find a girl who isn't put off by his little problem."  
  
Chantal twisted her head to look at her, "What little problem?"  
  
"Oh," Ingrid put her hand to her mouth, a move which had the added advantage of hiding her smile, "I thought he would have told you. But, don't worry, you probably haven't caught it. Probably."  
  
Her mouth twitched at the horrified look on the girl's face and she had to concentrate on not laughing as she made a show of stepping back to look at the dress. "Hmm, I knew it would work. Amazing how well it detracts from your face, isn't it? Well, I expect you'd like to be going." Chantal nodded wordlessly, and made her escape as soon as Ingrid held the door open, her hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor.  
  
Ingrid shut the door and leant against it in triumph; "You owe me, Branagh. Big time."

* * *

 

"What did you say to her?" Vlad asked accusingly, glaring at his sister. Chantal had been out through the door before he'd even had chance to say good night.  
  
"Nothing important," Ingrid said evasively, continuing to root through his wardrobe.  
  
"And," Vlad went on, "what are you doing in my room!"  
  
"I keep telling you, Vlad," Ingrid sighed as if he were being particularly dense, "this entire castle is rightfully mine. I go where I want, when I want. And, right now, I'm picking out your stage outfit."  
  
She pulled a hanger out with a pair of orange cut-offs, face contorting in disgust, "Just when I think you can't sink any lower." Tossing them to the floor, she set them on fire, the fabric instantly disintegrating.  
  
"I like those!" Vlad protested.  
  
Ingrid shook her head. "Exactly."

* * *

 

"Those are not toys!" Van Helsing held his hands out and Josh and Owain duly deposited the stakes they had been re-enacting Star Wars with. Van Helsing sighed and shifted the stake in his right hand, gripping it tightly. It felt right somehow. Before he had chance to think about it any further the door to the changing rooms crashed open.  
  
Ingrid Count just stood there for a long moment, making sure everyone got the full impact of her entrance, then made her way across the room.  
  
"I'd be careful with those," she looked at the stakes in his hands, then up at his face, smirking, "I'd hate for you to meet with an," she grinned, the expression somehow sinister, "accident."  
  
He frowned as she went past, making straight for Robin Branagh. "I'll be sure to bear that in mind."

* * *

 

"Robin."  
  
"Ingrid?" Robin blinked up at her in trepidation. Nobody ever said his name like that when they had good news for him.  
  
"Don't look so afraid," she smirked at him, making him feel more than a little uncomfortable, "I'm here to help you. Ah," she held a finger up, "don't ask why. Just be thankful that I am."  
  
He nodded hurriedly. It sounded reasonable. More reasonable than her usual threatening to smash his kneecaps was, at any rate.  
  
"Come here," she beckoned him closer and he hesitated, belatedly realising everyone else had already gone on through to the area backstage. "Now, Branagh. Or, don't you want my help?" Her tone suggested he better had, and he took a cautious step forward. As soon as he was close enough she smeared something cold and slick across the side of his neck, and he jerked back in shock.  
  
"What are you doing!"  
  
Ingrid smirked, wiping her fingers off on the dress Ashleigh was meant to change into during the interval. "Trust me, Branagh."

* * *

 

"Looks like you're in the dog house, mate," Josh said, looking over at Chantal.  
  
Vlad shrugged. He couldn't understand it; all the girls were being off with him. Nerves, probably. Not that it mattered, he told himself. One look on stage and they'd soon be back to swooning.  
  
He wished he could patch things up with Robin as easily. He watched as Robin trailed in through the side door, sitting in the corner by himself, and Vlad felt his stomach flutter. His conscience would never let him deceive Robin like that, he was sure of it. Regardless of how much he might sometimes want to. He refused to allow that it might not work on Robin, anyway.  
  
Mrs. Davies pushed into the room, frantically giving out last minute directions, putting an end to any thought he might have had of speaking to Robin before the curtains went up. Vlad gave Robin one last, lingering, look before going to get ready. He had been wrong, they could work it out, he had only needed to want it badly enough.

* * *

 

"You reek of O negative; where have you been?"  
  
"It's none of your business," Ingrid hissed. "Just because you're a pathetic excuse for a vampire doesn't mean I am." The Count glowered at her, ready to launch into a full blown argument when Mrs. Branagh's voice rang across the hall,  
  
"Ingrid! Mr. Count!" Mrs. Branagh was stood up, waving them over. "We've saved you seats!"  
  
The Count grimaced, "Why is that infernal woman everywhere I go?"  
  
"Because," Ingrid sneered, her glare causing the rabble of relatives and friends to part before her, "you only ever go to loser breather events like this."  
  
"Aw, Ingrid," Paul stared up at her in awe as she reached their row, "you look stunning."  
  
"I know;" she said simply, "feel free to grovel at my feet." She rolled her eyes, "not literally, idiot!" Paul got back up, helping her take her coat off and staring at her as she sat down. Ian glared at him from the other side of his parents.  
  
Mrs. Branagh reached past them to shake the Count's hand, "You must be so proud, Mr. Count. Vlad getting the main part."  
  
"Of course he got the main part," the Count shook his head in amusement, "he's my son."  
  
"Robin did very well too," Mr. Branagh piped up, glaring at the Count.  
  
"Yes," the Count said, considering. "I suppose he did. For a peasant."  
  
Ingrid snorted and Mr. Branagh made to get out of his seat, when Mrs. Davies clapped her hands together, the chattering in the hall slowly ceasing.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen: thank you so much for coming. I'm sure you can appreciate all the hard work that has been put in by our pupils," there were murmurs of assent throughout the room, "and tonight is the culmination of that effort. Without further ado I would like to present Dracula: the musical."

* * *

* * *

 

"He's not as bad as I thought he was," Paul said, gesturing up at the stage.  
  
The Count pulled a face and shuddered, "It's like nails down a blackboard."  
  
"You didn't hear him before."  
  
"Shut up both of you!" Ingrid hissed, glowering at them both in turn, "I am trying to watch my brother's crush make an idiot of himself."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," the Count shook his head, "Vladimir is a ladies man, like his father. He is going to go forth and spawn dozens of grandsons to carry the Dracula name!"  
  
"Is he?" Ingrid bit at her lip, smirking, and slouched further into her seat, "Is he really?"

* * *

 

Vlad watched anxiously as Robin made his way through the show's opening number; he was suddenly sick with nerves at the thought of getting up on stage in front of everyone he knew. The music faded away and he concentrated on breathing, and not on the increasing urge to give into hysteria, as the lighting changed and the boys working on scenery tiptoed around him.  
  
Finally, much too soon, it was his cue and, pausing only to wipe his sweaty palms on the dress slacks Ingrid had made him wear on pain of a slow and excruciating death, he stepped out on stage.

* * *

 

"Doesn't he have a lovely voice?"  
  
"Hmmm," Van Helsing murmured non-committally at his wife, squirming. The school really needed to invest in some less uncomfortable chairs. Up on stage Kelsey Peterson or, he snorted, 'Lucy Westenra' as she was for the night, had joined Vlad.  
  
The boy advanced on her, his cape billowing around him in a way that made him wonder who had had the misfortune of being lumbered with making it. Elizabeth Branagh, Van Helsing thought, smirking. He'd put money on it.  
  
Kelsey fought against Vlad's hold for a moment before falling still and staring up at the boy adoringly. Van Helsing grimaced as Vlad moved in closer, mouth open wide as if to bite her, when the orchestra reached their crescendo and the lights dimmed. Subtly, so as not to attract Mina's wrath, he looked at his watch.  
  
It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

" _We've all seen bodies fished out of the Thames. The corpses were bloodless, I swear. Some kind of creature is bleeding them white. I bet you a crown; these women weren't drowned. Better beware. Something is prowling around_."  
  
The sound of the school choir was filling the small space and Robin fidgeted with the clasps of his braces, watching as Vlad fussed with the high collar of his cape in the mirror. Vlad had been amazing on stage, just as he had known he would be.  
  
It still hurt to admit it, but, Vlad was right. He had never had a hope of getting the lead part.  
  
He had practiced and practiced and practiced until his throat was raw and still, he knew without doubt, he was only passable at best. Kelsey, freshly changed into her flowing white 'vampire' dress, said something to Vlad, and Robin had to look away at the smile she got in response. Much like life, the choir went on,  
  
" _No one in London knows who she is, where she goes, or what she is. We wish they would catch her whoever she is, this fiend of the night. The Lady in White_."  
  
Robin sighed. Vlad was just kind of amazing full stop. He hadn't laughed at him or told him to get lost when he had found out the secret he'd spent months doing his best to hide from the other boy. Hadn't called him a freak or sneered in disgust. Even later – after Vlad had enacted his favourite fantasy, sucking at his neck until he scarcely had the presence of mind to remember his own name, only to flee in disgust – he knew that Vlad hadn't set out to upset him. Vlad wasn't like that.  
  
As the song came to a close Vlad, Kelsey and the brides of Dracula all made their way to the back stage entrance. As he passed, Vlad's gaze met his, and Robin shivered at the strange intensity of it. When he was gone he gingerly pressed his fingers to the greasy substance Ingrid had put on his neck. Whatever it was, he hoped it was working.

* * *

 

"Fear the name of Count Dracula," Ingrid said mockingly, sniggering into her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. "This has made my unlife."  
  
The Count scowled at her, wincing as, on stage, [a rabble of local peasants paid homage to Vlad as Dracula, their "homie" from Transylvania](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=is6cBWvlh84). It was enough to make a grown vampire weep. Out loud he said,  
  
"Look at how they're fawning at him. That's the power of the Dracula name."  
  
"Look at the way he's poncing about the stage," Ingrid said, wiping at her eyes, another fit of laughter threatening, "It'll be the ruin of your name."

* * *

 

"Is it nearly finished yet?"  
  
"Jonno," Mina scolded, "don't be like that."  
  
Van Helsing just watched, intently, as his namesake explained how vampires could be slayed. Frowning, he whispered to Jonno, "There's something familiar about all this. I just can't put my finger on it."  
  
"Yeah," Jonno scoffed, shaking his head and peering over his shoulder in the hope of catching another glimpse of Chloe Branagh, "there ought to be. We've had to sit through it four times already this week."  
  
Van Helsing sighed; sometimes, Jonno could be very trying.

* * *

 

"Ugh, this is so gross!" Ashleigh scowled, holding the stain on the skirt of her dress up to the light. "And it smells rank."  
  
"Nobody will be able to see it," Vlad said, placatingly. He sniffed deeply; whatever it was smelt fine in his opinion. More than fine. Before he could try and work out what it was, Ashleigh was dragging him towards the stage by his arm.  
  
With the lights upon them Vlad couldn't help but grin. His initial nerves had melted away as soon as he got out on stage; he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that he loved the limelight. It ran in the family.  
  
"Mina, have you any idea what you do to me? Of the feelings you have awoken within me?" Vlad spoke as clearly as he could, casting his voice to the back of the hall, like he'd been taught to. The lines made him think of Robin but he pushed the thought away firmly. Now really wasn't the time.  
  
"I step across the line for you. I plunge myself in mortal sin. I sacrifice my soul to be your bride. I've given into the feelings I can't hide," Ashleigh spoke her own lines, leading into their duet.  
  
"I can't poison your life. I can't drive you insane. I can't drag you into my world of bloodlust and pain," Vlad enjoyed the way he had the audience captivated, the held breath as he leant in, ready to bite Ashleigh. He knew they were on tenterhooks, waiting to see if he would release her, or turn her, create another bloodsucker.  
  
He held himself just above Ashleigh's skin, so it looked to the audience as if he was truly sinking his teeth into her, for a long drawn out moment. Then, smirking, he let go and she fell to the ground – 'dead' - leaving him to revel in the shocked gasps from the audience at his callousness. His dad would be so proud of him.

* * *

 

"What did I tell you!" The Count whispered, smirking all across his face, "The boy is a chip off the old fang."

  
"Can I remind you that he hasn't actually killed her?" Ingrid said, scowling. The Count didn't answer, too busy turning around in his seat and telling anyone who would listen 'that's my son'.

* * *

 

"Are we okay for this scene?"  
  
Robin nodded, not trusting himself to answer aloud without giving himself away; he really had no idea how he was going to get through it without swooning like a member of Vlad's idiot fanclub.  
  
Vlad grinned at him, "Come on then."

* * *

 

"No man, alive or dead, could comprehend my suffering. She, whom alone saw the last vestiges of good in my blackened soul is gone, slain by my own hand!"  
  
"I didn't condone this maudlin drivel," The Count pulled a face, gesturing at the stage. "I wouldn't say that."  
  
"But I thought you said," Ingrid whispered back, grinning in delight, "he's a chip off the old fang?"  
  
The Count scowled and turned away; there would be time enough to get his own back later.

* * *

 

"You are not alone. Master, 'ave I not served you well? Will you not reward me now?"  
  
"Reward you?" Vlad asked coldly, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" They were stood inches away from each other now, and Robin was gazing up at him, the open regard in his eyes making it increasingly difficult to remember there were hundreds of people sat watching them.  
  
"You have dreamt of it," Vlad reached out to touch his fingertips to the pale skin of Robin's throat, "the touch," he trailed his fingers up, using the gentle pressure to turn Robin's face to the side, "of my fangs-" He leant in closer still and that smell from earlier assaulted him, causing him to stutter over the rest of the line, "against your frail flesh."  
  
He breathed in deeply, eyes falling shut, pressing his nose into the crook of Robin's neck. Robin brought a hand up and clenched his fingers into his arm, but the sensation barely registered. Vlad shifted his head slightly, opening his mouth and clamping down. Robin shuddered at the touch and Vlad pressed closer, unable to think of anything but how desperately he wanted to never let Robin go.  
  
"Vlad," Robin hissed, voice cracking as his fingers dug deeper into his arm. "To be at my side!"  
  
"Mmm," he murmured back against Robin's skin, aware that Robin had spoken, but incapable of deciphering the words. He kissed at Robin's pulse point, reassuring, in response to the way the other boy tried to pull away from him, before moving back into position, worrying at the mark he'd already made.

* * *

 

"X rated this," Ian murmured, "no wonder he wanted Vlad round to practice."  
  
"This wasn't in the script," Chloe whispered, suspiciously.  
  
"What is he doing?" The Count hissed as the seconds began to clock up, Vlad showing no sign of loosening his grip. "That wretched breather woman promised me my name wouldn't be besmirched like this!"  
  
Ingrid scarcely had chance to take the words in before a cry rang across the whole, loud enough to finally startle Vlad into letting go.  
  
"Vampire!" Van Helsing was on his feet, gesturing wildly at the stage, "He's a vampire!"

* * *

* * *

 

"Ooh, is this part of the show?" Mrs. Branagh asked, peering round the person in front to get a better look at Van Helsing who was being held back by Mina.  
  
"He's a real vampire!"  
  
"Eric, sit down!" Mina hissed, pulling at his arm, "You're embarrassing yourself."  
  
"Dad," Jonno grabbed hold of his other arm. Murmuring and laughter rippled around the hall.  
  
"Jonno," Van Helsing grasped hold of his son's shoulders, "you understand, don't you!"  
  
"I understand that you're a loony," Jonno shook his head. "Come on."

* * *

 

Robin watched as Jonno and Mina dragged Van Helsing into the aisle and back towards the hall doors, Van Helsing yelling accusations all the way. Next to him Vlad had a hand pressed to his mouth, his other visibly trembling at his side, sweat beading across his pale brow.  
  
The doors slammed, Van Helsing's calls fading away and attention turned back to the stage, not that it seemed to have any impact on Vlad. Robin glanced across the stage to where Mrs. Davies was stood, wringing her hands frantically, barely hidden by the curtain, and knew what he had to do.  
  
Improvise.

* * *

 

"I wish to be your constant companion, to be always at your side."  
  
"Come on, Vlad!" Mrs. Davies hissed, willing the boy to do something.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Owain whispered back. If Vlad didn't hurry up and get with it, it was going to ruin his moment of glory. A song to himself and the climax of the show, getting to stake the main character. If, and it seemed a big if, Vlad ever decided to move.  
  
"Master," Robin prompted again, and Vlad finally turned to look at him, "will you not grant me my wish? To let me stay with you forever?"  
  
Vlad gaped for a moment, taking it in. And, then, everything seemed to return to normal speed, realisation obvious on Vlad's face. He beckoned a hand, looking aloof and haughty, "Come closer."

* * *

  
Vlad tried to keep his gaze on Owain, and the stake he was about to be 'killed' by, and not on Robin. Especially not on the mark on the other boy's pale neck, stark and vivid against his pale skin and the crisp whiteness of his shirt collar.  
  
"You claim it was love, pure and heartfelt. And, yet, you have no capacity for such emotions. I know it to be true."  
  
With difficulty Vlad dragged his attention back, aware that if he didn't get to sit down, and sharpish, he'd fall down,  
  
"You're wrong. It was for love that I killed her. I could not do it, could not condemn her to a life such as mine." He could see his dad in the audience as he put a hand to his eyes, as if in grief; he'd be lucky if he was ever forgiven for this.  
  
Owain advanced on him slowly but steadily,  
  
"And it is for my love for her that I shall kill you."

* * *

 

"Vlad!" The Count was on his feet in an instant, disbelief written large across his face.  
  
Mrs. Branagh followed his lead, nudging her husband to make him get up to, and started to clap. The rest of the audience began to clamber to their own feet, Ingrid alone refusing to budge.  
  
The Count was attempting to push past the elderly couple at the end of the row, to no avail.  
  
"I'll kill him!"

* * *

 

"Eric, we've been through all this. Vampires do not exist."  
  
Van Helsing shook his head in frustration. "He was biting him!"  
  
"It's called acting," Jonno said, obviously not impressed with his dad's reasoning. "It's not real."  
  
"What about his father?" Van Helsing gestured back at the hall, oblivious as Mina and Jonno headed for the foyer, "He was wearing a cape! And Ingrid Count, she was laughing at me earlier, thought I wouldn't work it out!"  
  
He turned round to find no one there. He sucked in air through his teeth and gave the doors one last look before making for the caravan; there was so much work to do. No vampire got the better of a Van Helsing.

* * *

 

"Vlad," Robin took him by the arm, "are you alright?"  
  
He shook his head in response, letting Robin guide him off the stage and into a chair. "I'm so sorry, really sorry."  
  
"It's okay Vlad, come on."  
  
Everyone else was crowding around in concern now – all bar Chantal who had made it abundantly clear during the interval that if he ever spoke to him again it would be too soon - and Vlad wished he were anywhere else. He could scarcely bear to look at anyone for guilt. He'd messed up. Someone pressed a glass of water into his hand and he sipped at it dutifully, glad to have an excuse not to answer the barrage of questions aimed in his direction.  
  
"Let's give him some space," Mrs. Davies said, ushering everyone but Robin away. "I'll be back now," she left, shaking her head, and muttering something about Van Helsing and the blunt end of a stake.  
  
Robin was peering at him in concern; hand on his shoulder, "What 'appened?"  
  
"I don't know," he shook his head, keeping his gaze on his hands, "I just – there was – I couldn't stop myself. I've ruined everything. Van Helsing knows. And," he pressed a hand to his eyes, "I bit you. I really bit you."  
  
Robin gently pulled Vlad's hand away, using the fingers of his other hand to tilt his chin up, forcing him to make eye contact,  
  
"Van Helsing's a rubbish slayer, you know that. So what if he remembers?" Robin smiled at him, trying to make a joke of it. "And the play was fine, you heard them clapping."  
  
"I heard my dad yelling," Vlad said quietly, clenching his eyes shut, not wanting Robin to see him cry.  
  
The other boy's fingers left his chin, trailing up the side of his jaw to rest in his hair, "Just remind him about the biting; he'll probably want to throw you a party."  
  
"It's not funny," Vlad managed to choke out. "What if I'd had fangs? I could have killed you." He took another sip of water, horribly aware of the metallic taste of blood on his tongue.  
  
"But you didn't, did you?" Robin said comfortingly. "You didn't even break the skin."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Vladimir!" The Count's voice rang out and Robin broke away from him, guiltily. "You'd better have a good explanation for that, that fiasco!"  
  
"Now Mr. Count," Mrs. Davies started, struggling to keep up with the Count's long strides, "I'm sure-"  
  
The Count paused suddenly, holding up a hand and sniffing the air deeply, "O negative! Vlad!" His entire demeanour changed, a grin breaking across his face, "I'm so proud! Let me see!"  
  
Before anyone could stop him he'd crossed the room and was pulling at Robin's shirt collar.  
  
"Dad?" Vlad said warily.  
  
"Oh, don't worry about that now," the Count waved his free hand dismissively, "not when you've just bitten your first peasant!"  
  
"Mr. Count?" Mrs. Davies tried again, "are you feeling alright?"  
  
"Never better!" The Count frowned, peering closer at the mark on Robin's neck. Robin shot Vlad a 'help me!' look and Vlad took hold of his dad's elbow,  
  
"Can't this wait until we get home?"  
  
"I can't understand it," the Count murmured to himself, "where are the puncture wounds?" He lifted one long fingered hand to Robin's throat, Robin wincing as he stroked the pads of his fingertips across the mark. Frowning harder he let go of Robin – who immediately took a step back, closer to Vlad – and rubbed his fingers together, attracting confused looks from the room's other three occupants.  
  
"What is it?" Vlad asked anxiously, desperately afraid the Count's theatrics were leading up to bad news. The thought that he might have turned Robin entered his head, and he sank back down into the chair, concentrating on not being sick.  
  
The Count fixed him with a look, then pivoted sharply, cape billowing around him,  
  
"Ingrid."

* * *

 

"You deliberately sabotaged your brother's moment of glory!"  
  
"Come on," Vlad panted, pointing to the school gates – in the direction of the yelling – and tugged at Robin's arm, "almost there." They pelted across the playground, getting there in time to catch the end of Ingrid's response,  
  
"- evil vampiress." Sneering at them as they ground to a halt she went on, "What more can I say?"  
  
"Can someone please explain what's going on?" Vlad wheezed out. Robin nodded in agreement. Mrs. Davies seemed to be under the impression all three of them were stark raving mad.  
  
Ingrid sighed and rolled her eyes, "I put blood salve on Branagh's neck. Oh, don't give me that look," she shook her head in disgust, "it's not like you could have done any real damage." She grinned, "Not to anything other than your reputation, anyway. If Van Helsing wasn't such a pathetic waste of space you'd have just thrown yourself at Branagh, there and then." Smirking, she finished, "He'd have loved it."  
  
Robin shifted uncomfortably; he probably would have. Vlad scowled back at her, "And why are you suddenly so concerned with what Robin wants?"  
  
She shrugged, "Felt sorry for him." At the incredulous looks she got in return she shook her head. "Why do you think, dimwit! All that stands between me and that castle is you realising how very much you love Branagh," she finished in her most mocking tone.  
  
Robin blushed. He wished he had her confidence that all it would take for Vlad to love him back was a bloodlust induced attack on his person. He didn't think the last one had had all that much of an impact on Vlad's opinion on the matter.  
  
"Ingrid," the Count said patronisingly, "aren't you forgetting something?"  
  
She made a show of pondering for a moment. "No. Once you're dust which, let's face it, won't be long – my last attempt was this," she held her thumb and forefinger millimetres apart, smirking widely in remembered triumph, "close – the title, the money, the castle goes to Vladdy and his heirs. Branagh," she looked him up and down, "isn't going to be forthcoming there, is he?"  
  
"What about me?" Vlad asked frowning, wondering why she was overlooking the obvious flaw in the plan. "I'll live forever."  
  
"I like to think you'll stake yourself when Branagh dies but, if not," she shrugged, starting towards the Branaghs who were making their way over, "I can always give you a helping hand."

* * *

* * *

 

"Aw, mam, gerroff me!" Robin grimaced and squirmed and struggled against Mrs. Branagh's grip. When she finally released him he made a show of dusting himself off.  
  
"You're never too old for a hug, Robin."  
  
"I am," he muttered in return. Mrs. Branagh chose to overlook it and went to thank the Count for offering them a 'bite' to eat, and letting him stay the night.  
  
Ian and Paul sidled up to him, grinning lecherously. "Don't do anything we wouldn't," Ian said, nudging him and smirking in Vlad's direction.  
  
"It's not like that!" Robin protested, blushing. "And, anyway," he went on, "that line really doesn't work."  
  
The twins just looked at him blankly and he sighed, "Would you snog Vlad?"  
  
"Ugh, no!" Paul pulled a face.  
  
"What's going on here, then?" Mr. Branagh asked, smiling at all three of them.  
  
"Robin thinks we're trying to make a move on Vlad."  
  
"I don't. I just said –"  
  
Mr. Branagh tutted, "Jealousy is very unbecoming, Robin."  
  
"I'm not! Ian said –"  
  
"Leads to all sorts of problems."  
  
"But -"  
  
"You will be careful, won't you?" Mr. Branagh leant in closer, "Have you got anything, in case, you know?"  
  
"Dad!" Robin felt his cheeks flame scarlet, "We're not -"  
  
"I'm glad to hear it. There's no rush."  
  
"That's not what I – "  
  
"Get to know each other properly first."  
  
"Dad – "  
  
"Your mother and I –"

Thankfully Mrs. Branagh chose that moment to call him from across the hall.

"Right, well, we're going." Mr. Branagh clapped him on the shoulder as the twins stuttered out a 'good night' to Ingrid, "Remember what I said."  
  
Robin shook his head as he watched them trail out through the door. He had the most embarrassing family in the whole of Britain. No, scrap that, he thought as his dad said something to Vlad, looking pointedly back in his direction, the world.

* * *

 

"Are you alright now?"  
  
Vlad nodded awkwardly, unsure of where to start with what he wanted to say.  
  
"Do you think Ingrid meant what she said?"  
  
He shrugged, "I think it just gives her something to do, you know? Trying to stake dad, it takes her mind off Will." Vlad smirked at Robin, "He's double bolted his coffin tonight though."  
  
Robin grinned back and looked up at him - expectantly, Vlad thought and averted his gaze. He really didn't want to mess everything up again. Mr. Branagh had finished off the set. It was official. Every member of Robin's family had warned him he had better not upset Robin. Chloe's threat had made him wonder if, perhaps, she and Ingrid might not have more in common than they liked to believe.  
  
Out loud he said, "I really think she wanted to be nice." He thought of the twenty pound he'd lost and the humiliation he'd suffered, "She just doesn't quite know how."  
  
Robin snorted, "Maybe she's getting soft in her old age."  
  
They looked at each other and laughed. "Yeah, right," Vlad shook his head, smiling, "if it weren't for Van Helstinks I'd probably have been arrested or something. Public indecency."  
  
"Is that," Robin started quietly, the tone unbearably serious once again, " – the salve - the only reason you did it? I mean," he took a breath and finished the sentence in a rush, "do you think you can ever like me like that?"  
  
"I," Vlad swallowed, still unused to the way the sight of Robin's downcast gaze could affect him. Robin had told him that he wanted to play Dracula so he'd see him in a different light, it seemed that the part he had got had done the job just as well. "I'm scared of how much I like you."  
  
"Really?" Robin asked softly, voice laced with wonder. Vlad nodded mutely, hoping Robin could see that he was terrified right now, without him having to admit it.  
  
"I was so scared you'd hate me when you found out," Robin went on, speaking before Vlad could voice any protest, "or you'd just laugh at me. Then," he was so close now that Vlad could smell the last lingering traces of the salve, "I was scared that I'd start to hate you. But," Robin took his unresisting hand in his own, "I couldn't. Even when you said we were only messing about."  
  
The accusation in Robin's eyes made him squirm, finally goading him into action; to try and make up for being such an idiot. He brought their joined hands up to his lips, and kissed Robin's knuckles, pleased at the way the other boy blushed. "I'm not messing about now." He kissed the inside of Robin's wrist, the pulse of blood underneath the skin causing his own heart to leap in his chest.  
  
"You'd better mind you're not," Robin whispered back, voice far too breathy and tone far too happy for it to have any impact as a threat.  
  
"Trust me," He planted a soft kiss on Robin's jawbone. "I want to be at your side forever."  
  
There was a thump at the door and they both jumped in shock. Ingrid's voice rang through the barrier, "Stop spouting such repulsive drivel before I change my mind and stake you both now!"  
  
They looked at each other and smirked, waiting for her footsteps to die away before bursting into giggles. "Ingrid," Vlad grinned, "the matchmaker."  
  
"You heard her," Robin said, tutting and pulling him close, not bothering to voice the 'shut up' before crushing their lips together.

* * *

* * *

 

 ** _Epilogue._**  
  
"That's it," Robin said, "steady."  
  
Vlad bit at his lip in concentration as Robin let go.  
  
"You're doing it!" Robin yelled, grinning.  
  
"I am!" Vlad replied in near disbelief, "I really am!" He manoeuvred awkwardly, the front wheel wobbling precariously, making it a full lap. He came to a shaky stop and beamed, "I can ride a bike!"

* * *

  
"We could go on a proper biking holiday," Vlad said later, smiling down at Robin who was lying with his head in his lap, absently running his fingers through Robin's hair, "take one of your dad's tents and – "  
  
"I'd sooner go and jump off a cliff," Robin pulled a face, nose wrinkling in a way that made Vlad want to kiss him. "You know how much I hate the outdoors."  
  
"We're outdoors now," Vlad pointed out, leaning back against the tree trunk and gesturing at the woods around them.  
  
"Yeah," Robin swiped at a bug on his arm, "and it's 'orrible." He fixed him with a glare, "I'm only here for you."  
  
"Are you really?" Vlad crooned, "How romantic; your only reason for living is me. I should write a song about it – a duet!" Robin scowled again and he grinned, Robin was so easy to wind up. He tugged gently at the other boy's arm, encouraging him to sit up. As soon as he was - and had stopped complaining about it - Vlad met his gaze, touching his fingers to the bruise on Robin's neck that he never managed to stay away from long enough for it to fade.  
  
"You know what this means?" he asked quietly, tracing the sensitive skin.  
  
"You 'ave a serious neck fetish?"  
  
Vlad smiled in spite of himself, "No. It's like a sign, to other vampires, that you belong to me."  
  
"I don't think anyone's 'aving difficulty getting that message, Vlad." Robin said, deadpan, although he looked curious.  
  
"I," Vlad hesitated, "I thought maybe you could do the same to me."  
  
"What, give you a hickey? Here, in the woods, with Van Helsing probably watching from a tree or something?"  
  
"You don't have to," Vlad trailed off, trying to hide his disappointment.  
  
"Vlad," Robin grinned at him, reaching his own fingers out, "don't be stupid. I bet you've been dreaming about it, 'aven't you?" He pressed closer and put on a poor imitation of a Transylvanian accent, "The touch of my fangs against your frail flesh."  
  
"You're weird, anyone ever tell you that?"  
  
"Mmm," Robin murmured as he clamped down on the skin of Vlad's neck. Vlad squirmed at the touch, clutching at him and arching his head back as Robin began to suck,  
  
"You are," he ground out, "but, don't ever change."  


**Author's Note:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


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